Departure of Old, Arrival of New
by KTWizard
Summary: Witches are not the only enemy of Death, and Evils of Old shall return. But as this goes on, how does the young Demon Blade Meister cope with learning of an emotion he thought impossible to have, but losing a friend he's had all his life? ChronaxMaka
1. Chapter 1: Revelation

It was always the small things that he focused on. They were the only things he could understand. Watching a leaves rustle in the wind, admiring the sun in its slow cycle through the sky, counting the number of steps on a stair, naming the objects of a room, or even just listening to people talk.

He wouldn't speak, no, he didn't understand what was appropriate, allowed, acknowledged, tolerated, enjoyed, disgraced, admired. He simply listened to them all.

Sitting on a bench, he'd listen to them in the park. Children complaining about the adults, adults bragging about their children. Friends making plans for when to meet next, lovers deciding where to go together. Runners listing what path to take, and walkers admiring the view.

Sitting on a balcony, he'd listen to them in the city. Business men rushing to get to work, children rushing to get to school. Friends chatting happily at the coincidence of their meetings, rivals giving a scuff in passing. Merchants yelling of their goods, and buyers screaming about the yelling.

Sitting in his class-room, he'd listen to them in school. That was hardest.

He was always being dragged in to be included, ask to do things he didn't understand, couldn't understand. Have ihim/i talk about the class-work, talk about the students, talk about the teachers, talk about nurses, talk about the classes, talk about everything, and never talking about nothing. Never allowed to just sit and listen, always asked to join in and talk. He'd couldn't be alone, wasn't allowed to be alone.

She wouldn't let him be alone.

An angel disguised as a girl, a hero disguised as a student. She was the thing that always asked to him to interact, to join in, to give opinions, to do more than listen, to talk. She give a smile that warmed his body with words that soothed his soul. Her green eyes were as peaceful as the leaves on trees in the new birth of spring, and she always made sure to look at him with those eyes. Her hands were gloved with white lacings, but he never once was saddened when she grabbed his hand in hers.

Despite all that she had done, all that she had accomplished, and that she was now recognized for, she still sought him out, still fulfilling her boundless promise to never leave him alone. She'd seek him out in his room, dragging him from the corner. She'd seek him out in class, making sure he was paying attention. She'd seek him out in lunch, inviting him over to do more than listen. She'd seek him out after school, and invite him to join all her friends.

Friends. Even now it was a word he felt hard to describe.

One of these friends he had cut open, leaving the white haired boy still as a rock for weeks. One of these friends he had attacked, leaving him stranded in an ocean as he flew away. One of these friends he had hurt, and did little more than laugh and chuckle at the sight. One of these friends he had tried to kill, but now she was trying to bring him back to life.

These things were too big, too unknown, too unsure to be real. How could this be real? It couldn't be real. What if it was real? But it isn't real. Happiness isn't real. But what if it was? Could he have it, hold it, enjoy it, love it? No, that wasn't for him, never was for him, if it even existed. But it must exist, even though it doesn't. It's too big, it isn't simple.

"I don't know how to cope with this."

"What was that Chrona?"

His blue shot open as if he was struck, unbelieving he had spoken what he did. He saw each of their faces looking at him, a mild form of curiosity in each of their eyes. They were at lunch, they were at school, they were all together, and they were all looking at him. The three teams to powerful they had killed the Kishin all peering at him like odd shaped egg.

"I-I-I-I didn't s-s-say a-a-anything!" He wanted to yell it, but he didn't know how. Wouldn't that be bad? Wouldn't that scare them? Wouldn't that leave him alone?

"You did too Pinky!" Black Star said from the other side of the table. "Now spill it! Or the man who transcended God will show you the might of the heavens!" He ended with a smile, a raised fist, and crowd of people far passed used to his antics.

"I-I-It r-r-really w-w-wa-s-s n-n-nothing." His arm hurt. Why did his arm hurt? Why not his chest? Why not his leg? Why not his head? Oh, he was squeezing it too hard. The blood had stopped flowing.

"Ignore the fool with the unsymmetrical hair." It was Kid now, or Death the kid, or was it Kid Death? He didn't know, but he should know. They were friends, right? Maybe. Yes. Maybe. Probably. No. Never.

"We all are friends here, and you are the only one who hasn't said anything yet." His eyes were scary. Golden like the sun, but slit like a cat. How do you cope with having eyes like that? Did it hurt?

"Meister Kid is right." Tsubaki this time. The oldest, the tallest, not the wisest, kindest, gentlest, not prettiest. "There is nothing you can say that we would disapprove of." She had the same smile. A sure smile, but a fragile smile. He had broken once, and it was one of the things that were breaking him.

"It'd be uncool to ignore us you know." Soul, the cool kid, the chill kid, the powerful one, the wisest one, the weakest one. The one he had hurt, infected, damaged, scarred. He definitely wasn't a friend. How could they be friends? How could you go from enemies of the field to friends in school? It wasn't possible, so this wasn't real.

"Lay off you guys. Give Chrona some space." He didn't see her before she did it. An arm, single arm, long arm, warm arm, wrapped around his thin shoulders. "You were just telling everyone how unsymmetrical Patty and Liz are, right Chrona?" He let his blue eyes look to her. That wasn't what he said, he was sure of that. But then he saw her smile, her closed eye grin, her slight chuckling. A joke, a fib, a rescue for him, only him.

And it worked.

Kid's face fell into a look of despair faster than I had expected, and between his ranting and crying, I even felt a few chuckles escape his lips. Nobody was watching him, judging me, looking down at him.

Only Maka was looking at him, and she was smiling at him. Protecting, loving, guarding, relaxing. This had to be real, because he wanted it to be real, he wanted these feelings to be real. He needed it to be real.

"Thank you." He mouthed the words, no air for sound, just her beautiful peaceful green eyes to see. He expected something back from her, a kinder smile, a nod of assurance, even a quick hug.

He got a kiss, a peck, contact against his check. It was quick enough for him to have imagined it, but the blush she held did nothing to say it was fake.

"Your welcome."

It was on that day, at the moment, in that hour, of that second that Chrona realized what he felt. Beyond fear, beyond darkness, beyond loneliness, and beyond shame.

Chrona felt love for Maka.

He didn't know how to cope with this.

Time seemed slow after Chrona realized what he felt. Lunch lasted well beyond the half hour is was supposed to be. Class dragged on until the moon was due to rise. The sun stopped in the sky and laughed down upon the city below. The entire world seemed fine with keeping Chrona right were he was.

Two seats from Maka, and not a way in between to hide from her sight.

His blue eyes couldn't focus on the black board below, no matter how hard he told himself it was important to remember. His hands couldn't help but draw her face along the lined paper beneath, though his mind screamed to write down the lecture over sketching an angel. His ears couldn't hear anything but her eagerly asking and answering ever question that came her way, despite how hard he yelled into himself that what the teacher was saying was far more important. He heard Ragnarok laugh at him for that one. What was meant to be hours turned to days. Time itself had stolen itself to keep Chrona in the hell he didn't understand, couldn't understand, refused to understand.

When the bell rang, he though he heard a chorus of angels.

"Chrona!" He knew that voice, he knew it anywhere now. He would know it from now till his death, and very well far beyond. But for the first time in all his life, for the very first moments since he was born, he took an action he didn't understand, and still couldn't comprehend.

He ignored Maka.

He ran out the door before anyone else rose from their seats. He tore down the hall before an onlooker could turn their head. He reached his room before the first student left Shibusen. He was in the corner before his tears came.

He didn't know what he was crying. He doesn't understand why he's crying. He doesn't know how to cope with it. So he cries harder.

'Why does it feel nice? Why do I hate it? Why do I want more? Why do I want less? Why do I need to be near her? Why do I have to run from her? Why?' It was a dirge within his mind. A song he couldn't forget with a chorus he wish always to hear, but now resented more than Medusa herself.

"Hey! What's wrong with you!" The pain was dull, whether from use to it or the from the numbness his body was falling into, the pink haired swordsman couldn't tell. "You shitty little dike! What were you running for! Do you know how annoying that!" The little white fists of Ragnarok beat on Chrona's head like a drum, but not even a whimper of pain was uttered. He was already crying tears, why cry with voice too? Why do anything?

"Chrona?" The voice was muffled through the door, but he still knew who it was. No one else would come down here for him. No one else would care enough to search for him like this. No one at all. Just her, only her, and he ran from her. She didn't deserve to have someone like him. Someone so far below her. Why was she even here?"

"Chrona, please answer." Was that desperation? Why was she desperate? But she was desperate before, desperate to find him, help him, fight for him. "I know you're there, the door's locked." Was she trying the door? He couldn't hear it. He couldn't feel his Demon Blade hitting his head. He could only feel the wet tears on his face. Why were there tears again?

"I'm coming in Chrona." How could she come in, the door was locked. He made sure it was locked. She couldn't come in through a locked door. She couldn't, he wouldn't know how to cope with then there she was, right above him.

Maka looking down at him.

He saw here before he had a chance to wipe his eyes, and he felt the tears increase at the pained face she gave him. Her green eyes were shrunken in fright, and her hands were pulled closer to herself as if guarding against some unseen force. That was because of him, right? He was causing her more pain. He was caused her pain. Why was she here? Why was he here? Oh right, the tears. Why the tears? Oh right, the love.

"Chrona! What's wrong!" She was on her knees before him quickly, too quickly. Why so quickly? Life was so slow just a little bit ago, why was it moving so fast now? Why did things always lead back to her so fast, but lingered for so long in her presence? Why was he so warm? Why was he so cold?

"Please answer me! Chrona! Chrona!" He should speak, shouldn't he. Where was Ragnarok? He was just there a little bit ago, hitting him, mocking him, hating him, living in him. That's where he was, back inside him. A living force of hate against himself. That's where he was, so he was alone with Maka. He really should say something.

"Maka." It was so weak, weaker than what it used to be, weaker than he was used to. Why was he so weak now? Oh yeah, the crying.

"Chrona!" he felt her arms squeeze him. She was strong, she always was strong, he never had any doubt of that. But she was so very warm, and the tears felt cold.

His head was on her shoulder, how had it gotten there? Did he let it fall there? Did she lift him up there? It didn't matter, it was warm, he felt safe. It was nice. What shouldn't it feel nice? This was Maka, everything about her was nice. But why was he warmer now? It felt so hot, but nice, hot, nice. His arms were squeezing something, hold it close. It must have been his knees, he always hugged his knees like this. Cried into them, wept into them, sobbed into them. These weren't his knees. His hair wasn't blonde.

"It's okay Chrona, I promise it will be okay." What was wrong? Did he do something wrong? Wrong was bad. If he was bad, he would be punished, forgotten, exiled, lost. He didn't want that. He wanted to be here. He wanted to be with her. Not alone, never alone, but he always was alone.

It was sobbing now. The tears weren't alone, he was choking, coughing, gagging on himself. Did he resent all that he was so badly? Was his very existence so much of a curse that his own mind and body fought each other? Yes, that he could understand. He had already learned to cope with that.

But it was hard to understand why the angel's fingers were combing through his pink locks? Why she whispering sweet melancholies into his ear? Why was his shoulder getting wet? Was there a broken pipe, a leak, tears? Her tears, she was crying now.

"Maka." It was still so weak, fragile, small, forgettable. But he had to talk, even just for her. "Please d-d-don't cry." But he was crying, why shouldn't she cry? She was better than him, that's why. She was stronger, faster, wiser, smarter, kinder, gentler, everything more. So she shouldn't cry, she should be too strong too cry for him, someone so far below her. But still she let her tears fall onto his pink locks, and he did little to fight his own tears as they soaked her black jacket.

"Then tell me why you're crying. What happened?" What did happen? Did he recognize what he was, what he felt, where he was, who he was with? Did the realization break him, torture him, corrupt him? No, never, nothing about Maka could taint him. He tainted her, painted her beautiful soul dark with his own blood, brought pain to all around her.

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't cope with it. She wouldn't be able to cope with it. It would be too much, too soon, too early. Then when would be the right time? When could it be said without the fear of rejection, hurt, pain, fear? Never. Never seemed right. He'd hide it forever. That was okay. That was alright.

"N-n-nothing's w-w-ro-o-ong." It was pathetic, he was pathetic.

"You're lying, Chrona." She was reprimanding him. It was like saying the sky was blue. Plain, simple, obvious, well-known, true. But he couldn't tell her, so what would he tell her? A lie? He hated lies, she hated lies. They broke friendships, corrupted feelings, destroyed minds. But then what would the truth do? Leave him alone sooner, quicker, faster, longer. He couldn't cope with that, he wouldn't be able to understand it. He had to lie. Just this once, just this time, only this time, never any other. Just now, and that would be it forever.

"I…I-I just r-r-remebered…" What did he remember? What could he have remembered? What would she believe? What would he believe? Could he still lie?

"Remembered what Chrona?" She wanted to, needed to know. He couldn't stop the lie now.

"Medusa-sama…" Just saying that name, letting it past his lips, felt like acid and bile from the pit of his gut. He felt her hold tighten, felt her warm embrace grow stronger around him. He loved her even more for it, and it all the more because of it.

"Whatever she did to you," Maka sang to him on a gentle voice, a song without beat or rhythm, "forget all about it. You're here now." She pulled out of their embrace, and only then did Chrona see what he had done to her.

His blonde hair disheveled, strands hanging away from her pony tails and covering her face, dried tear marks marring the once flawless peach skin. Green eyes were swollen into her sockets, not the peaceful tranquility he had so come to love, admire, desire, but tired, worn, and almost aged like.

But she was still smiling.

She still had that heavenly smile of beauty and peace about it. A wonderful joyous gift he had thought forever to be unworthy of, but was now never the happier to see it every day he lived here, among the reapers of corrupted souls. It almost made the lie worth telling.

Almost.

"You're safe with us Chrona." She was still speaking to him, and he hung on every word with all his soul. "None of the witches, not even Medusa, can ever reach you as long as you're here. With DWMA, with Shibusen, with all of us." He listened to every word, and he knew not one word more or less was spoken than what she said. But still, he hoped, he imagined, he desired, her to say just one more reason why he was safe here, even if she never knew it yourself.

'_You're here_.'

They both rose from the corner of his room, and she was determined to lead him out of it as he was content to follow her. He didn't know where she was taking him, but he could guess. The basket ball court? The court yard? The balcony? Kid's house? Her house? Anywhere was fine, anywhere at all.

Because she was with him, because she wanted to be with him, as he wanted to be with her. She didn't need to know yet, not yet. Maybe one day, but most likely not. He was content to hide his love to live in the peace and happiness that surrounded him.

He could cope with that.


	2. Chapter 2: Decision

The Hall of Shinigami was a paradox in name, function, and even creation. A place that only death could rule in, but outside none could escape him already. A place that was designed for monitoring the world, despite death already living in every dark corner and star lit street under the sky. Built to forever house the spirit of the end, but still countless millions saw him as their last breaths were taken willingly, forcefully, or even whimpering.

It was so hard to cope with.

In spite of all his power, fame, and glory, the spirit of Death, Shinigami, was everything but terrifying. Donned in a comical skull mask, zigzagging black robes, and a voice meant to make children gather, he was as kindly to every soul that passed into his city as the hermit was to all of mother nature's creatures. Not once did he showcase his power to prove the might he held. Never did he force anyone to commit to any heinous act by the power of his name. Instead of destruction, instead of fear, he chose instead to nurture and grow.

He cultivated a city in the desert, and built upon it the seeds of the future. Children who would fight for the safety of the world, build the foundations that would ward off the plague of evil, and attempt to grasp their own threads of fame. So many flocked to such a chance, and so many worked their lives to succeed. Not once did a child, blade, teacher, nor student ever call the city of death a place of evil, vileness, or misery.

No, Shinigami was not a force that could be described as malicious or ill content.

He made sure everyone that came to him hurt, bruised, and broken was allowed to rest and grow. He assured every citizen and denizen that as long as they helped the city of Death thrive, they were as safe as a child in its mother's arms. With the care of a parent to his child, he watched his city grow, and made sure the people who lived within did as well.

Though meetings with the great lord of Death were scarce for many, you would never know walking in. He treated every member who entered his home as a long time friend. They all drank tea, sat at his table, talked about the world, of family, of friends. Many would leave saying they feared their own demise less just by knowing it would be that Great Spirit that would guide them beyond. Any discomfort in his presence was not from fear or mistrust, but simply bewilderment.

How do you deal with a spirit that dances as he talks and takes even the most critical of times with a life heart? How do you hope to understand The Force of Death when he speaks in the same tone to you as a mother does a new born babe? How best do you go about making sense of a meeting with Death that was had over a cup of tea and Fresh Japanese Sushi? Simply, you could not. So many stopped trying, accepting their powerful ruler for the kind heart that lay beneath all his actions and words.

But for Chrona, it took time and courage to cope with.

His first meeting with the Lord Death was only just after he left his guardian, his mother, his ruler, Medusa. It took no sense of imagination to know the looks of shock and disgust that marred everyone's face as he made his way through the halls of Shibusen. His arm grew cold under the grip he had in it. Far more than once he tried to turn away, to run into the desert and search for the only place he ever knew how to cope with, no matter how vile and hated he knew it was.

But for every turn of head he made, _she_ brought him back. For every pull of arm he made to escape, _she_ only tightened her hold. And for every gesture he made of fear, _she_ gave one of pure understanding and peace. She was the only reason he was able to meet with Shinigami, and now she was the only reason he stayed.

But she was still all the reason he needed.

It took time, no one said it wouldn't, but Chrona was able to walk the halls of Shibusen without an eye of criticism on him. He may not of been able to talk easily, but no one ever dismissed him because of it. He progressed much slower than most, always looking over his shoulder to make sure it was alright, accepted, allowed, encouraged, good. That's just what made the pink haired swordsman his own self though. Like Black Star unable to be called second, Kid with symmetry, and Maka letting her friends stay in danger, Chrona would never leave the bubble of uncertainty and nervousness.

But that's what made his friends just that, friends. All able to understand and cope with the flaws that made Chrona himself, and them themselves. No one would attack Kid for reorganizing their books the same way no one would make fun of Chrona for being unable to decide where to go when there was nothing to do.

To the center of it, they all accepted one another because they all trusted one another. In a fight between life and death, they knew they could depend on the friends who charged in beside them knowing without a shred of doubt that they would give their lives for one another would the situation ever called for it. It was who they were now, a team of friends, allies, and companions.

Chrona could deal with this.

"So what's the big idea with Lord Death calling us out on a Saturday?" The green haired ninja asked as they walked the familiar path the Shibusen. His hands were folded behind his head, eyes to the sky as if he were thinking of the answer himself. But they all knew better than that. "Maybe they finally realized my greatness and they're gonna give me a spot right next to Shinigami himself!" Again, none were surprised.

"He probably needs just ask a few questions about some matter or another." Soul concluded from the side of the group, hands in his pockets and head ducked just enough to hide his eyes from the others, the "cool" look.

"If my father wanted to merely ask a few benign questions, he would have done so on a more reasonable day." Kid spoke this time. He was ahead of most of them, Patty and Liz just behind on either side of him. "It must be a request of some sort, and to need all of us means one of two options."

"We either get to choose who goes, or we all have to." Maka. There was nothing else than needed to be said. Just her presence alone was enough to take note of. She always made Chrona feel such peace. "But it's probably just for one of us. We'd would have at least received a hint if there was something big enough happening to need all of us." That was true, and they all knew it. Arachnophobia was destroyed, the Kishin, Asura, dead, and Med… Chrona's mother sent to the next world. Anything that was a threat in this world now was just the same. Kishin eggs in need of destruction, or witches in need of hunting. No one complained those were the worst of the threats they received.

"But if it were a greater threat, I could prove once again how I was able to surpass God!" Well, almost no one. But as they before, and as they always would, they gave egotistical ninja nothing, not even a glance.

"If it is just a hunting mission in need of attention, Black Star and I would be more than happy to accept it." Tsubaki spoke in that unique voice of hers. So gentle and careful with ever word she ever spoke, she'd doubtlessly panic if anyone was ever offended anything she spoke. But no one had ever seen the mutli-weaponed ninja hurt a single soul with her words.

"No! I am in most dire need of another soul if that is the case!" Kid was forceful with how he spoke those words, and it brought all eyes to him, though no one stopped their march up the steps they were now on. "Patty and Liz have… have…" His eyes started to tear at the thought of it, and he was unable to even finish speaking the horror that corrupted his mind.

"I have twenty-four souls." Liz spoke from behind the near weeping kid, hand on his shoulder to keep him straight.

"Twenty-five!" Patty shouted as they made their way up the steps. It was the same eternally childish voice she always had.

"It's uneven! They need to be symmetrical!" The son of Death started to weep into his hands at the thought of it, Liz patting him on the shoulder with encouraging words while Patty giggled like the little maniac that she was. They were easily, together, all of them, the oddest of them all. But like Black Star with his ego, no one thought less of them, any of them.

"What do you think Chrona?"

The boy in question froze mid-walk. Why did he need to speak now? He was so content to just walk and listen to them. He didn't need to say anything, the illusion of belonging with them was enough. He didn't know how to cope with giving an opinion. What if he was wrong? What if they didn't agree with him? Would they still be his friends after that? Are they even his friends now?

"I-I-I agree with Maka." His hold always tightened on his own arm when he was nervous. The blood has ceased flowing under the pressure he had on it now.

"Yeah, that's probably what's gonna happen." Soul again, still playing the cool part with the mind of a sage. "If it is that, I say we draw straws over it."

"Why do that? Wouldn't it just be easier to take a vote?" Liz this time, her hand still on Kid's shoulder, whose sobs had lessened, but not disappeared.

"No, that won't work, because everyone will probably vote for themselves to go, and with you, Kid, and Patty all on the same team, you'll easily get the most votes." Once again, his logic was infallible. It was so hard to cope with someone who acted like him, talked like him, looked like him being full of enough wisdom to rival the teachers of Shibusen themselves. So hard to cope with.

"But we have no straws, so let's use Chrona's hair!" What? What? The said pink haired boy gave a horrified look as he ducked behind the black cloaked Maka. Instinctivly almost, she put up her arm in front of the Black Blood Swordsman. He felt his face get hot, but refused to acknowledge it. It would be so hard to cope with, especially now. He expected her to say something, give some small retort to how no one was going to do that to him, and he would only grow fainter from the words.

"Patti! No!" His head turned, caught between fear and shock at the speaker of those words. It was not Maka who said them, but Kid…

"His hair is far too symmetrical! Plucking hairs would completely ruin it!" He had clasped said gun weapon by the shoulders, holding her in place though she made no move towards the swordsman. She only gave her childish blank stare back to the worried son of Death. Chrona heard her sister say something about a frying pan and fire. Where they going to cook him instead? How would he cope with that?

"Ah, we're here." They all turned, and saw for themselves. Indeed they were before the mighty chamber door of Lord Death.

Whether it be instinctual through blood, practice, or observation, everyone of them straightened themselves, brought on a serious face, and entered throught he might doors. Chrona followed close to Maka, he didn't want Patti pulling his hair. Ragnarok did that enough.

The inside chamber was as large as ever. Painted clouds moving along the stone walls, the line of guillotine bars to walk under, even the touch of wind that always came with walking through the room modeled of the outdoors. It was so hard for Chrona to cope with before, and now he was just managing to make it through without having a close grip on Maka. He grew hot again at the thought.

"Would you stop thinking about her so much!"

Oh no.

He didn't even feel the pain of his permanent weapon partner forming from his back, and he didn't have the courage to do anything but stand still in horror at the words he shouted. Breath ceased to enter his lungs, and his hand gripped his arm almost hard enough to hear the bone crack.

His friends, the only people he could rely on, trust, cope with, did they hear? His wide blue eyes looked to them, shrunken in his skull. Indeed they had.

Each one was looking to the black blood weapon that perched himself on top of Chrona's head, the pink-pong eyes looking at down at him as he did. Of all the things they had learned to accept about the swordsman, this was the hardest. A quirk in attitude was easily over looked, and a habit that was beyond repair could be dealt with in time, but understanding Ragnarok was always a challenge to them all.

No one was more disgusting, rude, barbaric, and blunt as the weapon was. Getting kicks from abusing the very body he literally lived within, encouraging the tortured soul to abandon and betray his closest friends for a witch in both mind and body, slobbering all the food he was offered, and be none too shy at forcing his way onto people to get what he wanted. Anything he did was for his own benefit, and anything he did to others was always pain.

"What's wrong Mr. Rok?" That was Patty, he didn't need to see to tell. She was the only one who could deal with Ragnarok, something that took Chrona years to be able to do. Most everyone else cringed when he emerged, and sighed away as he approached. Only that gun weapon with the mindset of a three-year old could approach the melted sword with the all the fascination that she would a giraffe.

"This brainless idiot here won't stop thinking about that bitch!" A hit on his head. It didn't hurt, not anymore at least. Not since he was purged of every human soul he had every eaten. It was torture to the weapon, but heaven to Chrona. It was one of the few things he didn't need time to deal with.

"Don't hit Chrona like that." Maka, Maka again. She walking towards him, them, with her eyes on him, them. It was that look she gave when she was trying to make a point, trying to defend him. She was the only one who ever jumped to help him like-

"See! Right there!" Ragnarok yelled again, a few more fists, but nothing that was worth more than a flinch. "Everytime you let your empty little mind think of her, you get as hot as a bitch in heat, cause that's what you are! You can't deal with it, and neither can I!"

Cold fear gripped his soul. Ragnarok was close, so close, too close, to telling everyone what he vowed to hide forever. Why now? Why so soon after he learned to cope with it? That wasn't fair. He needed to stop.

"Stop Ragnarok." It came out far more pathetic than he would have ever thought, and he already thought himself for pitiful than a beaten puppy in the rain.

"You first dike boy!"

"Hellooooo!"

All turned to see the Grand Master Death. Just as he always was, dressed in black with a triple spiked skull mask. His head was bent to the right just a bit. He was curious, wondering what was happening, wondering what took them so long, wondering about something. What was he curious about? Did he want to know too? Did he want Ragnarok to tell the one secret he wished so desperately to keep? No, he couldn't, he wouldn't.

It would ruin the one thing he had come so far to cope with, and enjoy. It would make his friends wary of him, make Maka run from him, force him from Shibusen, force him to be alone, all alone, all over again. That couldn't happen, that just couldn't happen!

"How are you all doing today?" He sang when he talked, just like he always did.

"Acceptable Father," Kid replied hastily, thankful, gracefully, "We were just discussing how curious it was that you summoned us on a Saturday, and all together, at the same time."

"What? No we weren't! Blood Sword over there was just about to tell us who-"

"MAKA CHOP!"

Black Star hit the ground with a thud, stars true to his name floating in front of his vision. A worried Tsubaki fell to his side, gently nudging and calling his name. But this was usual, so no paid much mind.

Chrona did though.

Maka saved him again. She always did, always trying to help him, always striving to aid him. She was- NO! NO! He had to stop! Ragnarok would complain again if he kept thinking about her, then he would tell, tell everyone. He had to stop thinking about her.

"Nice one Maka!" Shinigami congratulated, overly sized white hand giving the peace sign only the way he could. "Maybe one day you could rival the great Shinigami Chop." A hot blush ran across her face, and she responded with a light thank you. It escaped most of their ears, but not Chrona's. But he would not think of her now, not yet, not here.

"Anyway, down to business," he turned on a dime and pointed forwards. "Follooow!" He called and started back down the path of guillotines. They all followed as swiftly as they could, Black Star himself being carried on Tsubaki's back. They all marched forward, the Sycthe Partners, the Gun Wielders, and the Ninja's One Many Army. None of them noticed Chrona still standing there, Ragnarok gripping his head.

"Aren't ya gonna join them, or did ya realize just how stupid you really are?" He was leaning on his head, trying to get a view of the Sword Meister's face as he spoke. "C'mon, you can leave now and no one will miss ya. Maybe you can even find Eruka and Free! They're the closest things to family you got now."

"Shut up." He had to shut up. "Why are you doing that?" It wasn't fair. He shouldn't do that, but he was, but he shouldn't. "You should stop."

"I'll stop when I want to ya shitty dike!" It was a shout, but maybe the others wouldn't here, wouldn't notice he was gone. Wait…

"Do they even know you're gone?" Ragnarok asked the horrifying question before he could even think it. "Of course not! That's my point!" He was hitting him again, but he couldn't feel it.

Was Ragnarok right? Could they forget him so easily? Why was he even here then? What was he with them? Why were the so nice to him? Why was Maka so nice, kind, gentle, sweet to him? Was it a silent torture? A lead-up to a horrible betrayel? He would deserve it though, wouldn't he? He betrayed them, so now they should betray him. It would make since, it would be fair. But still… still…

"I-I-I-I couldn't co-o-o-pe wi-ith tha-a-at." He was stuttering to himself, crying to himself. But that's all he was, all by himself. Maybe he should leave, just turn heel now and walk out. Like they said before, there were no longer any threats to worry of, they wouldn't think he betrayed them, just left them, left before they could betray him. He should, he should really leave…

"Chrona!" That wasn't Ragnarok, that wasn't himself. He looked up to see Maka running towards him, TO him. Why was she running? Was she running for him?

"Chrona, forget about Ragnarok." What did she say? Forget about him, the very blood he needed to survive, fight, live, defend? How? How could he forget about that? "He was just being an idiot again, like Black Star usually is." She gave a giggle, Chrona focused on a speck of dirt near his shoe rather then the angelic voice before him giving a tone of joy. He couldn't think about her, Ragnarok would complain, than he would tell her, then he would leave him, then he would be alone. So he couldn't think of her.

It was hard not to when she put her hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon," she beckoned with her head, ponytails swaying lightly as she did. "You don't want to miss what Lord Death has to say, do you?" He did, but he shouldn't. Her hand was warm, it was gentle, and he could tell even through a glove that it was soft. How was he supposed to think of something else? How could he cope with this? He couldn't cope with this. He couldn't deal with this. He-

He was moving now.

She was pulling his hand.

"We won't be able to hear Lord Death if we're all the way back here, will we?" She gave him that smile again, that smile that always made him melt within, made his blood hot as magma. It felt so foreign, so weird, so different, but then at the same time, so wonderful. So blissfully, carelessly, unworldly wonderful. He didn't even need to think to now how to deal with it. He wanted to feel more of it, to be enraptured in it, to be surrounded by it for the rest of his life.

But he couldn't, he just couldn't. It take him away from the happiness he already had, risk losing everything just for this one feeling. Was it worth it? Was it worth risking his happiness with just one small confession, one tale telling of how he felt?

That was what he couldn't cope with. Losing everything for just one thing.

"Ah, Chrona, it's so good to see you again!" His blue eyes looked up to see Lord Death. When did he get here? Did Maka lead him down the path that quickly? She must have, why else would he be here. But… didn't he already see Lord Death? So why was he talking as if it had been days? He didn't know how to deal with this. He just made his hand grip tighter.

"Ow!" He jumped, physically jumped, back when he heard the small word of pain from the blonde angel who guided him here. He saw her, rubbing her hand as a low hiss came from her lips. She was in pain, pain in her hand, the same hand she had grabbed his hand with, his hand…

He hurt her, he caused her pain.

"Maka! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He was shouting it, he had to. He had to make sure she heard him. There was no way he could risk her hating him, despising him, looking down at him, away from him…

"It's alright, Chrona." She spoke to him again, not even a hint of anger on her voice. It always made him freeze, focus on her, look at her, remain near her. "You just have a strong grip is all. Warn me next time, alright?" The smile, the face, his heat of body and soul returned.

"Well, everyone is here now, so let me get started." The Lord Death spoke to grab their attention, and it worked just as it always had, and very well always would. "Does anyone know why I called you here?"

"No," his son spoke with his arms crossed, "We had a few theories between us, but it came down to one of two possibilities." Didn't they only have two possibilities from the start? "Either you need all of us, or want us to decide who goes on the mission you have. Based upon the lack of any great threats, or information there of, we concluded you wanted us to decide between the eight of us," the look of pleasure he had was inescapable from the group of friends. "Who would take the mission."

"Ah!" Death interjected with a large raised finger. "Very close son, but not quite there." More than just Kid's phase turned in confusion. What else could there be? No one knew, not even Kid knew. Chrona had a hard time dealing with it.

"You're more the correct in saying we lack any significant threats to require your entire team, and I'm more than grateful for the hand you all played in that. However," his finger beat in invisible drum, emphasizing a point he was about to make. "There we received four simultaneous reports of Kishin eggs appearing around the world." Kid gave a look of small realization, similar to what he would give should he have been given the answer to a difficult question. "With that in mind, I wanted to see how you have progressed with your newest member in terms of strategy through division." Him? Lord Death was talking about him? Shinigami was looking at him, head tilted to look above and around his son just in front and below him. So he was talking about him? But the idea of it, Lord Death focusing on him in a group of heroes all better than he was unnerving, terrifying, horrific. He couldn't cope with this at all.

"So we all decide who goes where then?" Soul asked the question, turning Shinigami's head to the white haired scythe. A breath of relief couldn't help but escape Chrona's lips. Maybe Soul really was his friend, in spite of the pain he brought him, did to him, caused him, and mutilated him. Maybe he wasn't after all.

"Yahoo! Then it's decided, I'll take the strongest of the four!" Black Star shouted with a jump in the air. His smile was wide and bright at the thought of it. If it made him so happy, the thought alone, then what would it mean if he DID fight the strongest? Would he be even happier than now? Would it make the joy he felt now nothing compared the joy he would have?

It felt like a question more for Chrona himself than for Black Star's ego problem.

"We don't even know who that is yet." It was Tsubaki that cautioned him, and good thing too. She was the only voice he would truly consider reason.

"Does it matter? I surpassed God himself, so that means that no wanna be Kishin is gonna even compare with the might of Black Star!"

"Father, what can you tell us of the four targets?" Kid asked in a neutral tone. Not even an eye batted towards the green haired ninja.

"Always on top of priorities, that's my son!" The large white hand of Death gave Kid's back a light hit. The gun meister stumbled forward under the impact, a look brief pain. But as soon as his balance was regained, he looked back up to the Lord of Life and Death, and gave a smile. Was it a smirk of defiance? No. Was it a cold grin of planning? No. It was just a smile, the kind of smile only a son could give his father. The kind of smile given when a child earns a new level of respect from the parent, when their admiration for the figure that raised them is recognized, and congratulated. What did that feel like? Was it nice? Was it warm? Was it cold? How did you cope with it? Chrona wanted to know.

"Hmm…" Kid hummed through is lips as he looked at the four pieces of parchment handed to him. Chrona shook his head. When did he get those? Did they just appear? Were they summoned? He didn't know how to cope with this!

"Quit hogging them!" Black Star again. He jumped infront of kid, grabbing two of the papers from his hand before he could even utter a word of complaint. When he did Tsubaki put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something into his ear. What did she say? Was she being kind still, or was she giving him a warning, threat, ward of words? Kid sighed when she was done, and continued to read the papers in hand. She must have been kind, but not as kind as Maka was.

"Oh! This one! The Nightmare of Maple Street! An invisible predator that attacks victims as they sleep, making it appear their very nightmares are killing them... This is great! C'mon Tsubaki!" The said weapon gave only a small cry of shock as the Black Star ran from the room with her in hand. Not a one said anything to stop him, then all knew they couldn't. Chrona included.

"Now that that is concluded," Kid spoke to regain some attention, "I believe that Patty, Liz, and I will take this one." He rolled up the scroll and slightly waved it to signify his meaning. "The Eight Legged Queen, a spider of terrifying size and cunning. So far, it has trapped several victims in the middle of entirely open streets, not a one able to struggle. Perfect for me to investigate."

He turned to Lord Death, that same content smile on his face. "I will return father." He gave a bow before he departed, Liz and Patti shortly behind, the younger giggling like the maniac she was till they were beyond earshot.

"Well, that just leaves you three then." Lord Death noted with a wave of his finger. "Decide who wants what and make sure you're careful. Good Luck!" He gave his signature peace sign again, and the three of the remaining friends couldn't help but smile under the kind force of the inevitable demise. It was just impossible to ever think bad of a spirit with such life inside of him, despite all the power he also held.

"So Chrona, what does that leave us with?" Maka asked as she picked up the parchement scroll Black Star had dropped in his hasty retreat. Taking the hint, the pink haired swordsman ventured over to her, looking over her shoulder as she read the paper.

It was a mistake.

Being so close to her made his face hot again, the blood inside him boil with a feeling he never wanted to let go of, but feared would be the end of him. It was anything but gentle as he moved back from her. By fate would have it, luck was on his side for once, as Maka didn't even know he left. Or was it that she never knew he was behind her? Did she care to even know? Did she care at all? What if she didn-

"Hey." Chrona's head whipped to the voice, Soul. He was eyeing him with those blood red eyes, red like his blood should be, but wasn't. "Calm down man. It ain't cool to get so worked over a small job like this." He winked. He winked. What did it mean? Did he like him? Did he see what he did? Did he threaten him? Chrona didn't know how to cope with this.

"This one's weird." Maka spoke aloud as her eyes were still glued on the page before her. "Apparently this one is called Father Ketcham, a spirit Kishin egg that can touch anything in the physical plane, but can't even be phased the other way around." She looked up the page and looked at Soul.

She smiled.

It wasn't the same smile. It couldn't be the same smile. No! No. No, it wasn't, it defiantly wasn't. He was sure of it, Chrona was more than just sure, he was absolute about it. The smile she gave was not warm, gentle, or considerate. It was cunning in its purest form, planning almost. Maybe she was planning, she was the smartest out of all of them. Soul was just the wisest.

"Looks like wer're gonna pull another Genie hunter, huh?" Soul smiled back at Maka when he was done. His smiles were always fierce. They mind Chrona think of him as a Shark. Sharp as the jaws of the ocean, and more than ready to tear apart anything in it's path. Cunning like the great hunter of the waters, and adaptable in any situation. He was a shark on land. How did you deal with being a shark?

"Guess so. Well then," Maka turned to Chrona and Lord Death, "We'll be leaving then. Take care Chrona, be safe!" The she gave her real smile, the smile that made the pink haired swordsman realize what she was to him, and what he had to stay away from should he want this blanket of happiness to continue forever. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't.

"Well now." Lord Death spoke in his child pleasing voice, "That leaves that for you." He spoke while his hand motioned from the scroll in Chrona's hand to the boy in question. A small nod was given, and he unrolled the parchment to read it.

There were several lines, all with their own information. The target name, location, killing style, abilities, known number of souls absorbed, and weaknesses, if any existed. He read down the middle first. It was the first thing he saw, and he knew he could deal with being ignored, so he wouldn't ignore words he already laid eyes on.

"It's located in Carpthanian Mountains, in an old castle." He had lived in a castle most his life, if in the dungeons of one. He could deal with a castle. That made this slightly better.

"The most common deaths so far are from broken neck wounds and blood loss." Neither of those were problems for him, not with the Black Blood in his veins. He wouldn't die of blood loss, and it would take a blow from a tank to break any of his bones. He could easily deal with that.

"Its strength is massive, and it's also very fast… but that's it." Those were things he was trained to kill. He was no longer allowed to kill though, but this was alright, this was evil, it was supposed to be killed. Maka would be happy when he killed it, so he would, and then he would be happy. He could deal with this too.

"Looks like you got the right one, eh Chrona?" Lord Death beside him. His blue eyes turned to meet the Master of Life and Death, only to fall in confusion. When did he set up a tea table? When did he brew the tea? Where did the food come from? Why didn't he hear anything? He was so confused, he didn't know how to cope with being confused…

"Something wrong?" He was talking again, talking to him. He shook his head vigorously.

"No! Nothing!" Nothing could be wrong, not in the presence of the most powerful soul of all time. Nothing could go wrong. No one could deal with that!

"Alrighty then!" Chrona's eyes returned to the paper.

"Eaten twenty human souls." Is that a lot for a Kishin egg? "Is that a lot?" He asked Shinigami out loud. He wouldn't know how to cope if he didn't know.

"Hmm. Enough to make it a threat for most meisters, but in remember that even one human soul absorbed is bad enough." Right, of course, obviously. One death was enough deaths, he didn't need to ask to know that. Then why did he ask? He shouldn't have. Would Lord Death be angry at him?

The masked master of Shibusen only continued to drink his tea. No. No, he wasn't.

"I-I think I can deal with this." A smile came to his lips. Nothing about the Kishin Egg was terrifying, unknown, horrific, or extremely dangerous. He could handle it, and then he would come back. He would spend time with the rest of his friends then, and life would go on. There was no threat that kept him from that, not as long as he stayed as he was.

"Thank you Lord Death, I-I-I'll be on my way." He stumbled as he walked away from the relaxing spirit, more than ready and willing to finish this job.

"Chronaaaaaa!"

"Y-Y-Yes?" What had he forgotten? Did he anger the Lord Death? Would he be thrown out of Shibusen?

"What was your target's naaaame?" What was its name? He didn't look? He ignored the name? How could he ignore the most important part? If someone didn't know his name, someone who was trying to kill him, that would mean he wasn't worth knowing. He could never cope with that.

That parchment unrolled itself again in his hands, and his eyes jumped straight for identity of the beast he was sent to slay. He read it, memorized it, and closed the paper again. Looking to the white masked master meister, he spoke the name of his target.

"Dracula sir!"

He left before he heard the tea cup shatter.


	3. Chapter 3: Trap

**Author's Note:** I know that up until now, I have been trying to write this as a third-person view, but that changes this chapter. It's strictly Chrona's point of view… until it requires someone else's view… whatever, I know you'll follow it. Promise!

* * *

I didn't know the mountains could be so cold. How do I deal with something so cold? I'm lucky to be wearing black, but I'm stupid to wear a dress. Every breath of wind that made it's way through the curvy spikes and sides of the mountain range managed to blow that ice cold air into areas I blush to even think of. Even with Ragnarok sleeping inside, for what he called the only warm place within 100 miles, I still feel cold as the ice I'm walking through. I don't know how to cope with being so cold.

It must be nice to be Black Star right now. A place like Maple street sounds nice, easy to cope with. I imagine it had maple trees lined up and down the entire street, leaves falling gently from their branches as their age was getting to them, and the wind beckoned them to follow. Children would be eagerly playing games on their yards, laughing at the antics I was never allowed to experience. Maybe I wouldn't be able to cope with it after all...

But Kid, or Death the Kid, or Kid-san, or Death Jr, or… or… just Kid I guess. I could cope with calling him Kid, he didn't seem to mind that after all. His didn't sound like anywhere I wanted to be either. A giant spider that sucked its victim's souls like the blood out of fly? How could I possibly cope fighting something like that? It would be hideous, monstrous, disgusting. But none of that mattered to Kid, did it? No, to him, it was symmetrical, so _HE_ could deal with it, I just couldn't.

But Maka… oh Maka.

"Ah, nice and warm now." The small tug on my back let's me know Ragnarok has made his appearance. He quickly settles himself on top of my head like a nest, comfortable with doing, as he wanted to me. I had learned long ago to cope with this. I think it would be harder to not have him at all. That would be hard to cope with.

"I-I-I'm glad your w-w-warm Ragnarok." I respond sincerely to his comfort. The more comfortable he is, the less comfortable he makes me.

"You better be Pinky!" The small balls that are his fists grind on my head. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as when he was larger, but it still hursts. I don't like being in pain…

"P-P-Please stop…" Quiet, weak, silent, miserable…

"Useless, spineless dike!" My black blood partner finishes my own thoughts. He's been with me for so long he doesn't even need to think to know how I feel, and he doesn't need a thought to know what to do to make it worse. My pain is his pleasure. His torment on me is my… norm. Even now he pounds at my head like a drummer would cymbals beating them without restraint, knowing that no matter how hard he hit I wouldn't change.

"T-T-T-That hurts!" It came out more forceful than I imagined, but to whomever will listen, I do wish Ragnarok would stop hurting me like he does. What did I do make him hate me so? Was I supposed to be hated? He didn't hate Medusa, he didn't even hate Stein, but he always hated me. I may now how to cope with it, but it still hurts. I can cope with pain, but I still feel it.

I just wish Ragnarok was gone.

But still I move my feet forward, willing myself to go on and complete this mission. The sooner I finish this, the faster I can return to Shibusen, to Death City, to Maka…

"Ah, that's so much better than the bleeding cold." The black blood weapon spoke behind me. His punches ceased as my blonde angel once again raided my mind. From her angelic sense of forgiveness, valkryie like battle sense, and sage like wisdom. No part of her could be thought poorly of. She is everything I'm not, which is everything good and pure. I am everything she isn't, which is nothing but corruption and evil. No greater feeling has ever been felt by me than when she holds me through my tears, guides me while holding my hand, even petting me for acknowledging what was right.

"Keep those thoughts coming dike boy. For once the she-pig can do some good in." He shouldn't speak about her like that.

"P-P-P-Please don't insult M-M-Maka… Ragnarok." Not even in her defense can I raise a wall of will. My voice trembling to defend her, even as she searches for her own Kishin Egg continents away.

I feel Ragnarok rise as if challenged, ready to roll his fists into my skull without the lack of restraint he always did. But for all the time I wait, I have yet to feel him on me, only still lying partially within me. Curiosity holds me, and I look behind to see what has stopped, perhaps to thank whatever force has held him in place. But what I see is what he sees, and it is the sight that holds him from his mockery of me.

A grand castle.

It stands against the mountain as if in it's own defiance to the forces of nature, an attempt to show that greatness of the cliffs could be matched by it's mortal made hands. Spires and towers rise from corners around it, a grand drawbridge stationed at it's front, closed to keep the wandering out. It's gray blocks of concrete and stone stood strong and tall, proving it's worth in challenge to the mountains that housed it. Yet even as my eyes stare at the grand structure of time and nature's defiant, I can see it's battle is one that it is losing. Far more than a single spire had fallen from it's once mighty height, pieces of which were lying around the outer walls with others doubtlessly having fallen within. Entire boards of the drawbridge have decayed and returned to the earth from whence they came.

But… for all the clear decay and rot of the menacing structure before me, I cannot stop the cold feeling crawling up my spine. It isn't the cold of the mountain snow, and Ragnarok isn't reminding me of my worthlessness to numb me. What I feel now, is much like what I felt when in the presence of my mother past, or of my aunt long dead, or even the few moments I spent observing the mighty Kishin Asura. The ominous chill that creeps my spine, and freezes even my eternally bound weapon in place, is nothing of the strength of a kishin egg. So now I wonder if I am fighting a Kishin Egg, or am I fighting a full blooded Kishin.

I don't know how to cope with this.

But I couldn't return to Shibusen, or even show my face to Maka, if I were to leave here without even a testimony of the creature. So now I walk forward to the dead castle housing the dead with every bone and drop of my blood against the actions I make. I need to cope with this. I need to learn how to deal with this. If I let my fear always get the best of me, Maka will grow tired of me, Shibusen will lose use of me, Death City will no longer want me, and I'll be alone, deserted, brushed aside, cast away, alone, alone, alone…

"Oi! Shitty dike man! What do you tink yer doing?" Ragnarok had finally pulled out of his own shock, probably because I started to walk forward. He must not like the train of thought I'm taking. "You're actually going in that thing? What the hell for? I don't sense any souls in there!" For his part, he's right. There are no souls in the castle, neither human nor Kishin. But something **IS** in there, I need to kill it. Kill it for the Death God. Kill it for Maka.

"I have to kill it." The words leave my lips in a whisper barely heard over the wind. Yet it was enough for Ragnarok to know.

"Kill what! Didn't you hear me Pinky! There's nothing in ther! Nada, zilch, nothing!" I feel his small balled hands grip my face, attempting to forcefully turn my head away from the monstrous structure. "We're going home now dike boy. You're gonna turn around, pull up your gay little dress, and prance us back to the warm death city." But… I'm not, I'm not going to listen to Ragnarok now. Whenever I do, I hurt good people, so if I don't maybe I'll hurt the right people. I could cope with that, but only as long as Maka appr-

**BANG!**

My thoughts stop with a jolt, and Ragnarok does as well. The massive draw bridge, decayed as it was, had fallen from its hung position until it landed across the ice filled moat. Though now I can see the court yard for all its once might worth, I feel the chill for death worse than ever before, even in the presence of the Shinigami himself. Could I really enter this place? Could I dare force myself to enter this unholy keep and fight what lies inside? How could I deal with this? How could anyone deal with this?

"Your scared shitless!" Ragnarok shrieked from above me. "I'll say I am if it'll get through your rock hardened skull that we should leave. C'mon!" He's becoming desperate. I don't think I've ever seen him scared like this before? Even when I almost died, by the hands of my own mother, all he did was mock me until my final moments. Now… Now he is almost begging me to leave here. Maybe he sense something I don't. Maybe he knows what's here. If he told me, I might be able to cope with it, I might be able to fight it.

"R-R-Ragnarok." He stilled himself, probably because he thought I'm going to agree with him. I'm not, I won't, but I still spoke. "D-Do you know w-w-what's h-h-here?" He remained still. He did know, he did know what this creature was. He did know what Dracula was, but why wouldn't he tell me.

"You dumb shitty frail dike! How do you know!" Despite my expectation for him to hit me, I don't feel his balled fists hitting my head, or pulling my hair, or stretching my face. So I turn to see him, to look at him when he insults me now. I expect to see his cross-eyed balled pupils glaring at me, trying to burn me with their sight alone. Instead, I find them small, scared, horrified. Scared that I didn't know, or scared that I was still moving?

"S-S-So will y-y-you…" I calm myself. I can't stutter now, not if it scares my partner like this. "Will you tell me what is here?" He shakes for a moment, maybe to rid himself of the cold I have already grown use to. I felt something so similar in the presence of my mother, so I could cope with a feeling that was almost the same. I saw his grotesque tongue lick around his formless lips, and I see him shrink in the hopes of hiding within me again. But he stops, he looks me in the eyes and begins to talk.

"I'll tell ya Pinky if you stop moving." I stop instantly.

Brief as it is, I look around to see where I have ended up. The dead walls and spires outside did little to tell the darkness and decay that had occurred within. No furnishings of wood or stone remained unharmed by time. The wood had rotted and molded into lumps of useless fuzz, while the stone and eroded and cracked until lumps of brick and rubble were all that remained. High above, at least thirty feet, the archways of the ceiling had lost a good deal of their support, held in place only by the lack of activity within the castle halls. Should anything more than the snow or rain land on the roof, it would doubtlessly cave in. Chandeliers like scattered about the hall, doubtlessly having their chains give to the weight of time. But all else I should be able to see is hidden by the shadows. No fires or light from outside seep through to illuminate much of the halls, and what should be seen is now hidden from me. This was a castle of death, or a castle of the dead. This was so hard to cope with.

"I really didn't think this Dracula would be much more than dumb slutty Kishin Egg looking for a fight for a thrill." My black blood partner spoke from behind me. "Plenty of these shetty half-baked Eggs try and make their name by calling themselves some more well known evil. Remember She-Pig talking about Jack the Ripper?" I nod in affirmation. She did tell me about it. It was the moment before she fought the purple cat Blair. I still don't know how to deal with her. "Do ya really think that Bitch Egg was the really bloody ripper?" No answer comes out me, because I can't know. I always thought it was, but I know if I say that, he'll start hitting me again. So I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"That's why I said nothin' when you got Dracula. Hell, I was excited to fight something that was supposed to be a _LIKE_ bad-ass Vampire! But…" His voice is quiet now, very quiet. So much so, he reminded me of me in the presence of my mother.

"R-Ragnarok?" He's silent still, but he hasn't told me anything.

"Dracula, the vampire Dracula, Count Dracula, is a monster of monsters, and the prince of Darkness."

I feel my skin grow cold at the tone Ragnarok is using. It's so serious, for him, so deathly, non-joking, no kidding, dead-pan, serious. I have never seen Ragnarok so sure of what he said, or more grave about the words he is using. I'm not sure I can deal with this anymore.

"For hundreds of years, Count Dracula collected the village maidens of countless towns, luring the pathetic bitches with a corrupted soul, made by the twisted hands of a fallen Angel. He feasts on the blood of young maidens, turning them into his slaves for eternity, using their bodies as daily meals of both nourishment, and pleasure." If I could feel any colder than I did know, I may freeze completely in place. The cold of the snow and wind of the mountains did nothing to chill me as the story Ragnarok was telling. Did such a thing really exist? Was I really in it's home? Did it want to kill me for it? Am I going to die? Will I ever see Maka again? I don't know how to deal with this. I don't know how to deal with any of this…

"But the stupid thing is that the bastard is supposed to be fucking dead!" I turned my head at his shout. Not out of shock, just to make sure I didn't hear what I wanted to hear, but heard what he really said.

"R-Really? He's d-d-d-dead?" My hands were gripping my arms so tightly. I think I'm about to tear them off, but it's a side note compared to the terror my blood sword is describing.

"That's what I said you shetty Dike Boy! Some German guy got fed up with thing, so he marched right in here and killed it, stake through the heart and all!" He emphasized his point by hitting me on the head, harder than what he would usually do to. But oddly, I feel okay with it now. It just means he's sure the monster is dead, which is good. It means I can face whatever is left in here, as long as it's now Dracula. I'll be okay, I will see Maka again. That I can definitely deal with.

"S-S-S-So, what was the m-m-man's name?" I don't know why, but I am curious to know. He killed something that was called the Prince of Darkness, so he had to have been strong. It would at least do him kind to remember his name. I saw the black mass that was my partner shift as he prepared to speak, and the name reached my ears rather easily.

"**Van** **Hellsing.**"

That was not Ragnarok.

I turned with caught breath to the source of the voice, searching the shadows of the halls for the bearer of such a powerful voice. So heavy, so dark, so strong, so powerful, so evil. What was the _THING_ that spoke? It wasn't a man, that much I knew, no voice of any human could be so deep or command such strength. It had to be the Kishin Egg, but where was it? Hiding the shadows, but where in the shadows was it?

"**I assure you, young master of Death, I hide nothing from you. Not form nor intention.**" My skin is crawling over this. I can't deal with this. He's everywhere and nowhere. I can't deal with this. He's above me, below me, beside, behind me, before me. I can't deal with this at all!

"W-W-W-W-W-W-" I can't speak. I can barely breath! What is this? Where is he! I can't deal with this! I need help! I need Maka!

"**Come now, young sire,**" I turn as soon as I hear the voice, my hands gripping one another hard enough for me to hear the bones cracking in them. They'll heal, they always do, I can deal with any kind of physical pain. But not this kind of pain, this freight. "**Must you really call to a woman to save you? Are you even being threatened?**" Yes! Yes! Yes I am! He's is threatening me! He's going to kill me. Wait…

"Y-Y-You can red-rad-reea-read my m-m-m-mind?" It was a horribly stuttered sentence, and the bone chilling laughter that followed my words made proof of it, but I still needed to know. I _NEED _to know.

"**Because you are in such duress to know, yes. Your mind is a well-authorized novel, one of which I find each page as interesting as the next.**" I don't bother to look for him now, he's hiding from me even if he won't say it, but I know he'll attack soon. I need to be ready, even if just to fight my last.

"R-R-RAGNAROK!" It was more of a frightful squeek and battle worn cry, but my demon blade didn't question my unspoken command. I felt him flow through my veins forcing his way through the infinitesimally small pores of my skin, and forming the black blade in my hand. Though I grip my sword arm now with the same strength of which I did in every battle, I find this more out of cowardice in the presence of such strength than out of preparation for attack. I am terrified. I am scared. I might die.

"**You will only die if I do not save you.**" Wh-Whut?

"What?" I don't know what else to think, say, or even mutter.

"**You're abnormally shaped ally described my methods best, but he… omitted rather important parts**." I can't think when he knows what I think. I can't find him if he knows where I look. I need to find him, but I can't let him know that I'm looking, but he sees what I see. What can I do? How do I cope wit this?

"**Think it best at this. Monsters are born by the hands of other monsters. No matter how corrupt the will or unholy the intentions of the soul, they will never be anything more than an evil man.**" What is he saying? What is _IT_ saying? What is it planning? What's happening? I can't deal with this. I can't deal with this at all. Not at all.

"**I have for so long, so many years, so many centuries, been the force to create monsters of man.**" Was this really Dracula? Was this really the thing Ragnarok was telling me about? How do I fight it then? How do I see it? How do I find it?

"**Think hard on how to find me, you may succeed.**"

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?

"WHERE ARE YOU!" A scream of a child, of a poor soul caught in an escapeless nightmare. That was what my cry was of. I was caught in between terror and horror, with only pits of darkness surrounding me. I can't cope with this. I'd never be able to cope with this. I need a way out. I need a way out. Maka. Where are you Maka?

"**Do not fret further, I will show you myself.**" Footsteps. Heavy, elegant, powerful, defined, forceful, royal footsteps. They were echoing down the long dark empty hall. I could still not tell at all where they originated from, or where they were even approaching, though my guess could be seen as accurate. He was marching towards me, fearlessly walking to me. He knows I could do nothing to him, he knows I won't be able to touch what I can't see. He knows he can kill me, and that I can't kill him.

From the shadows I see him step, as if he was freshly born from the darkness of the halls. A rich dark purple cloak hugs his shoulders, falling to the back of his knees. It's lined black within, with splotches of random red around it. I don't care to guess what the red really is. I might not be able to cope with it. But the rest of his clothes, they are nothing I could easily describe. Royal clothes, maybe, but they seem so ancient. Needlessly frilled at the collar, tight cottoned over shirt carrying its way down to his waist. Loose, but very well pressed leggings. They were all as black as the shadows he, _IT_, had emerged from, but the lining and sewing of red, blood red, was unmistakable.

But I can not keep my eyes on his clothes, no matter how odd they may be, and how hard they are for me to cope with. What terrifies me is his face. Nothing is wrong, nothing is misplaced. It's a normal face, no different than any other I see, and something that should easily be able to cope with. But at the same time, it's… not.

His skin is paler than even my own, so white and clear that it seems impossible for him to have come from the shadows as he has. I feel that if he were to step into any sunlight he'd burn before he could possibly tan, or even blink. Against the dark colors of his clothes, he could be glowing for all I know. How does he deal with being so pale? I can't imagine how? I can't cope with it. But I can cope even less with his eyes. The eyes, his eyes, those eyes, dark eyes, red eyes, dead eyes. They stare ate me with barely concealed interest. Like eyes long dead and rotting, like the eyes of souls long past forgotten, examining me for something terrible, so horrific experiment they know I'm going to hate. I know those eyes, I've seen them all my life.

They are the eyes of my mother.

I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this. I can't cope with this.

"Oi! Shitty Dike Boy! Pay attention or I'll rip your hair our out so fast your skin will peel!" Ragnarok shouts at me. I realize at his words how I'm hunching in myself, hugging my knees as I hide my face from the world. The black shadows of the ground ripple as something drops on them. They're my tears. I'm crying in fear. When was the last time I had done this? When was the last time I'd been so terrified? Had I ever been so scared of someone before? How can I cope with this? I can I ever learn to cope with this?

"**An oddity to instill such fear in by appearance alone**." _HE, IT,_ is talking with to me. I don't want him to talk to me. "**But I am speaking to you, young Death Master, just as you requested for me to.**" But I don't want you to talk. Stop talking. I don't need you to talk. "**Then what is it you want, Child of Medusa.**" No. No!

"No!" I shout in fear and freight, out of anger and repulsion. "Don't say her name! Don't, Don't!" I'm holding my head in pain, but there is no pain. He's just inside my head, but he doesn't belong there, no one does, barely even me. He can't say her name, she's my mother, that's it, her name doesn't need to be spoken. That vile, hated, loathed, despicable, unholy, horrid name. I don't want to hear it, speak it, whisper it, read it. I can't. I can't. I can't be here. I just can't. Maka. Maka!

"**Maka is not here.**" My eyes shoot to him, terrified. "**She is currently searching for a very ancient relationship of mine, one from ages forgotten.**" Who? Who is he talking about? How does _IT_ know that! "**The once holy father Ketcham forsook his soul to torture all those who took plains into his home. Your dear friend's special ability may serve he well enough to best him, but under no circumstances or priorities will she come here to aid you fast or well enough.**" How does he know Maka? How does he know her mission? How does he know those things?

"**I read more than your thoughts, Crona**." I cringe, a visible, shaking cringe. I couldn't hide it if I wanted to, and I did so want to. Why isn't Ragnarok talking? Where is he? "**As I said before, your mind is a novel, and I am it's reader. Slide back the pages with a careful finger, and I can see every thought, action, and memory you ever held dear,**" He smiles at me as speaks the last line. "**Or ever forever feared.**"

His smile, that smile, that horrible misplaced smile. I know that smile, but I don't know it. I recognize the feeling, but I'm foreign to the lines. I will never forget the smile of my mother, as she looks down upon me with glee at my misery.

But she did not have fangs that reached her lips. Not like this man.

"**I have never met your… dispised mother, young Chrona, but I do now wish we could have become acquainted.**" He's no different than her, he's just like her. I need to leave. I need to run. So I will run. I turn on a dime from my hunched form, sprinting as fast as my thin legs will carry. I don't care how much it hurts, I don't care if I begin to sweat Ragnarok from my veins. I have to leave, I have to leave now. NOW!

But I stop, and not by my will. I hit an object and fall over, unwillingly throwing myself to the ground with the force. My face hurts, and my chest hurts. I look up and I see the terrifying sight still before me. The fanged smile of pale man looking down on me.

"**You are not familiar with my powers, or my methods.**" He leans down to me, uncaring as I quickly try to escape him, backing away across the dusty decaying floor. "**I will have to thank my new associate within Shibusen for the marvelous job and superb prize he has procured me.**" What? What? He has someone in Death City? In shibusen? Who? Who?

"W-W-Who?" I shout again, I cannot do anything but shout at this evil man. His smile does justice to his power, and his slow stride does wonders to strike fear further into me. Where is Ragnarok?

"**I will not tell you my good colleague's name, but I will tell you mine, before I force myself upon you.**" This isn't happening. This can't be happening. I can't cope with this, I can't deal with this, I can't even understand this! I need Maka, Maka. Maka! But though I know he knows my thoughts, he does nothing more than grab my pink hair with fist, holding it tight as a let out a grimace of pain. He's strong, very strong. I can't feel anything give as I struggle in his grasp.

"**Know my name for the power it is. Know my title for the strength it holds. Know me as what I am.**" He leans down to me, his pitch black hair mixing with my light pink as he lowers himself to my neck. I feel his cold breath and I shudder in fear.

"**I am Count Dracula, the Prince of Darkness.**"

I feel pain on my neck, my scream tear through the dead castle, then nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4: Mourning

**Author's Note:** I haven't been getting much reviews for this, or even hits for that matter. I can't say I'm surprised, but it does kind of disappoint me when I spend hours on these things and barely anyone sees them. But I digress, this property isn't mine, so I shouldn't be expecting much for spinning it off.

Anyway, I just wanted to make a quick note that the beginning to paragraphs, and any part that holds no dialogue, is strictly third person omniscient point of view. This is because it's too confusing to jump into someone and run them for the entire book, especially at parts where they black out or lose memory. I'm not confident in my abilities to write a story like that, and I wouldn't be fun. So I hope you can stand the odd levels of view that this story has developed, and I apologize for my A.D.D.

* * *

There wasn't a force in all of heaven, all of hell, or all throughout Death City that could stop the mad rush of Maka into Shibusen's Medical Wing. Doors blew and flew off their reinforced hinges as the Scythe Meister rushed through the halls. Not far behind her followed the faithful Scythe Soul, unwilling to believe himself the news they had received. Not once through his partner's fury filled dash did he mention the lack of coolness her actions possessed, or how her over reactive nature was once again earning the best of her. He could not and would not even try talking to her in the state she was in. Full of panic, full of dread, full of bewilderment, full of fear…

The bravest of all the Heros of Shibusen was full of unrestrained fear.

If he was given the chance, the white haired youth may have made a comment about it, even if only under a whisper's breath. But now, running to the place that held a dire answer, chasing fruitlessly to catch said meister, he didn't even give it a thought. No one could begrudge the blonde child for having such fear inside of her, not with the news she received. Anyone should be filled with dread and loss. Anyone and Everyone.

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This could not be happening. This could not be happening. This could not be happening at all! Not to him, not to Chrona. Not to the one child who's suffered more than anyone I know, not the scared and lost boy that only wanted to be loved. Not the sweet innocent Chrona. Not him, not him again.

I can't accept this, I can not believe it! The letter had to of been wrong, or misspelled, or misaddressed, or improperly sent. Something, anything! Chrona isn't in the hospital, he isn't about to die, he isn't in critical condition, he isn't about to die, he didn't fail his mission, he isn't about to die, he wasn't found by Sid, he isn't about to die, he isn't leaving us, he can not be about to die!

I never let the idea of slowing down even pass me by as I throw open another set of doors, hearing them crash hard against the walls as they loose their grips on the hinges they once hung. If they are blocking my path to Chrona, they don't deserve to stay where they are. I need to reach him, and no one is going to stop me.

Now I see it, right before me. The sign, that small wooden sign that I had seen far more times than any other student at the academy. The medical wing, the hospital, the nurse's office, the morgue…

He isn't about to die.

But… now I'm hesitating. Deep breaths are entering and leaving me as I stare at the door just in front of me. It can't be more than arm's length, but still, I feel as if reaching out for it will only push it away. What ever is beyond that door is something I never wanted to see again. Not after Soul, not after Black Star, not after Chrona… Why was it happening to him again? Why him? Why not Kid, why not Patti, why not Tsubaki, why not _ME_? Why am I the one who's left to stare at my friends as their leaning towards the dark abyss? Why only my friends… Why them… Why Chrona? Why?

"Oi, Maka." I turn my head slowly at the voice, knowing full well who it is. He can act so cool whenever he wishes, but I can tell now, being partners with him for so long, he's not putting up any kind of façade now. It shows on his face as much as it laces with his voice. He's worried like I'm worried, scared like I'm scared. Yeah, I'm scared, the meister who's supposed to possess the courage to banish a Kishin, I can't even open a door to see my friend…

"Maka." He says my name again, more forceful, making sure I hear. "Let's go in."

"No." I say it before I can stop myself. "I can't. I… I just can't." How could I? How could I watch my friend as he dies?

He isn't about to die.

"He needs you in there Maka." I feel his hand on me, trying to push me forward. But I find myself almost resisting. Why am I resisting? Didn't I just tear down doors and walls to get here? Why am I hesitating so bad now? Is because I already know the truth? I already know Chrona's fate?

He isn't dead.

"I-I-I can't go in." I stutter as I speak, only half resisting now as I take another half step towards the door, Soul gently coaxing me all the way. "He c-c-ould be…. Could b-…" I can't finish it. I may think it, I may know it, but I won't say it. But that's because it would be admittance, acceptance, and I can't give up on Chrona that easily.

He cannot be dead.

"He'll be okay, just like you said." For the first time I look at Soul's red eyes, knowing how close the tears are to falling down my face, but I hold them steady, I hold them in. I can't cry now, I won't cry now. "Chrona's a strong guy, strong enough to take us in a fight, and strong enough to face is mom in one too. Some punk Kishin Egg couldn't have done him." Wha? What was he saying? My face must show my confusion, because I see Soul give his classical Shark like smirk, showcasing every sharp tooth he has.

"Chrona may be hurt, but I know just like you do, he ain't gonna die." He's right, he's always right, and now I couldn't be happier to know he's right. For the first time since I read the letter, I feel a small smile crawl on my face.

"Idiot." I mutter it with a joking tone, and I know Soul can tell. His arm leaves my shoulder, because he also knows I can walk forward on my own. He was too wise for his own good. But I'm glad, otherwise, we wouldn't be where we are, or come as far as we have.

I step forward, further than the shuffling I was doing moments before, and I stretch out my hand to grasp the door handle. Looking inside, I find every gallon, liter, pint, and ounce of courage I have. Pulling it to together, holding it tight, I let my arm pull the door open as I step inside.

Everyone is here already, they all beat me here. Soul is sitting in front of the bed, both elbows on his knees, fingers laced just above his mouth, and golden eyes staring ahead deathly. Liz and Patty are on either side of him, though they're unafraid to lean over the bed and look worryingly upon the figure that lies on it. Liz looks somewhere between pained and worried, while Liz looks the just the same with her childishly curious face.

Black Star is just beside the bed, facing away from the door I just entered. His head is bowed down and arms crossed. It's the silence that gets to me more than the little I see of him. He isn't jumping up and down proclaiming his greatness, nor is he trying to rouse the bed-ridden occupant with his obnoxiously loud voice. For once, the obnoxious ninja was deathly silent.

Tsubaki, however, is far different. Her normally calm and serene face is twisted into a sorrow filled mess. Tears are still leaking down her eyes even as she looks to me as I enter the room, the only one to do so yet. Her normally well cared for black hair is strewn abnormally, not even tied in her usual tail. Her lips move as she looks to me, trying to phrase a sentence, or maybe just a word, but her voice is gone, drowned in the sorrow she was all to willing to see. Just like me.

This is so much worse than what I thought it would be. Why is no one speaking? Why are they all so quiet? Why can't I move? Where's Chrona? Where is he? Where is he? Only when I scream the question in my mind do I finally find myself moving, gliding if I am to be exact, across the floor to the bed. I could not hear my feet on the stone floor, I could not hear my own breaths as I moved, I did not even hear the choked sobs of Tsubaki as she finally regains her lost voice. No sound reached me, and no feeling touched me.

All I can do is stare at the white blanket draped over the body before me.

But… But this isn't right, this isn't real. I know it isn't. I know it isn't because it can't be real. There's just no way I can be real. Chrona couldn't be dead, not so easily, not this early, not like this. He… He… He wasn't even here! He was on his way! This was someone else beneath the sheet, Ox maybe, just someone else. I know it's someone else, and I can prove it. I will prove it.

I stretch out my hand, reaching for the white blanket without a word of warning to the others. Somehow, I know they're trying to stop me. I can feel someone grab my shoulder as I grip the white sheets, ready to pull them off and show everyone just how wrong they are. This isn't Chrona on the bed, and they don't want me to show them? But I can hear someone trying to speak to me, maybe it's Soul, or even Kid. I don't know, I don't care. I can't listen to them until I show them just who this is. But I don't know myself, all I know is that it isn't Chrona. This… this body… I know it isn't Chrona, and that's all I care about, that all I need to prove. I rip the blanket from the body in a single quick jerk.

I freeze like ice at the sight.

It… It is Chrona… Just… Just lying there… Still… silent… motionless… dead… dead… dead…

He's dead… Chrona is dead… He did die… I was wrong… I am wrong… He died… He died from… from what? Did something… something go wrong? Did… did he get… distracted… Was it me? Was it my fault?

"Maka." I don't know who said my name, I don't care, not in the slightest. "We're… we're sorry…" Sorry for what? It's my fault, it's all my fault. "Please Maka, don't cry, not here." I'm crying? Yes, I am. I can feel the wet tears now, sliding down my face, washing away whatever façade of innocence I had. What does it matter anymore? I failed him. He gave his heart and soul to me, saw me as an anchor to the world. _HE_ depended on _ME_, but I failed him. I completely and totally failed him.

"C-Chrona…" My voice catches on itself as I say his name, chocking and tears I don't even try to wipe away. I feel the arm on my shoulder try and pull me back from him, but I can't let that happen. I give a quick tug, and it releases. They have to know they can't stop me, not from this. My hands rise to his face, his pale, morbidly dead face. So still, so serene. It ails me to know that I've never seen him look more at peace than now. But this is wrong. It's all so so wrong.

The white laces of my gloves reach his face, hanging just breaths above his skin, afraid to know that touching will make this nightmare all the more real, make this feeling I have even worse, and confirm every fear I've ever had. Can I really do this? Should I even? For just a moment I attempt to pull my hands back, to let him lay as he is. Maybe if I do, then there's still a chance he'll wake up, that'll he'll be alive, that this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any of it, all of it, I'd accept anything else than even one more part of this horrible reality I find myself in. But Chrona shouldn't be alone now…

He shouldn't have been alone all his life, but he was. He shouldn't have been abandoned by his own mother, but he was. He shouldn't have been a tool for the Kishin, but he was. He shouldn't have been a punching bag for Ragnarok, but he was. He shouldn't have been cursed with Black Blood, but he was. He shouldn't have gone on that mission all alone, but he did. He shouldn't have died alone… He shouldn't have died the same way he lived…

I realize as that thought passes my mind, I have to do this. No matter how much my hands may tremble and my voice crack with tears, I need to at least send him off. He needed me when he came here, and he needed me at his mission, but I abandoned him, I broke my promise, I left him to die. I won't leave without showing him, wherever Lord Death took him that I do still care for him, that I will never leave him.

The very edges of my gloves trace his skin, earning a whimpering intake of breath. He was cold as ice, and nearly just as still. Small, miniscule ripples were forming around my fingers as the pressure began to set, not one muscle in his face moving. His pink hair glowed on top of the pale flesh that showed beneath it, and I cannot stop myself from lightly moving a few strands that were placed across his face. As I do, my hand cups his cheek, needlessly holding his head still in my palm.

My dam broke.

"Chrona! Chrona!" Before anyone can stop me, I throw myself onto his shoulder, staining the black material with my tears. There isn't anything in me that tries to quiet my mournful cries, mourning the life of a friend who was tortured all his life, alone all his life, and alone even in death. I let every piece of sorrow I had ever held out in this moment, in this one… one horrific, scorning, awful moment.

"Why? Why… was it-it you?" I hiccup through my tears, barely caring in the slightest for the pity filled eyes of my friends around me.

"Didn-n't you su-uffer e-noug-g-gh? Wasn-n-n't eve-e-rything behi-i-nd you?" My fingers clench the black fabric of his dress in a tight ball. For all I know, the fabric could tear with the grip I have on it, but I don't care, I don't think anyone cares anymore.

He's dead.

He's Dead.

He's _Dead._

Chrona. Is… dead…

I'm crying harder than ever before, and still not a breath is even released around me. Only the painful gasps and cries that come from me fill the room. Am I the only one who is mourning him? Does no one else care about the tortured son of a witch? A boy who was sent through hell for no more reason that being lost his entire life?

"M-Maka…" I don't know who said my name, I don't care. They should be saying his name, only his name, mourning him with me dammit! Why am I the only one crying for him? Why am all that he has? All that he had…

"Should… should we stop her?"

"Let her be Star, being cool means nothing here."

"I… I'm leaving." Someone left, I don't know who. But I don't care. I still can't care. I'm still crying, mourning, screaming, shouting, tearing. Why won't they cry too? Why won't anyone mourn him but me?

"This… this is not right…" He's right. Death the Kid is right. Nothing about this is right. Nothing about this is fair. For all accounts of life being cruel or playing odds unearned against those who deserved so much more, no tragedy better showed the horrors of life than the one I still clung to, pushing my soul into as if to will him to life. How I wish I could reverse this, to have any one event that brought about this outcome change. I can see Chrona happy with us, all of us. Alive, well, unscarred, unbeaten, pure. Just so many things he never was allowed to be. A dry gasp catches my throat, and my hands instinctually grab his black gown tighter. It only brought about a cruel reminder. Those times can never come now.

He is dead…

Chrona… my best friend, the one constant reminder that showed me what I was fighting for, what all meisters fight for. Dying a cruel and undeserved death in a cold and forgotten place.

He's dead…

And it's all my fault…

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It wasn't until Maka's hiccups and tears ceased their flow that anyone dare to even move to them. It was the meister's loyal weapon that placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, speaking her name in a voice so soft it betrayed the gruffness of his character. When no response was given, it fell on him to pull on the slim girl's shoulder, expecting her hands to grip the fabric of their deceased friend with strength they all knew, all admired, and all pitied. Yet no effort to resist was made.

The distraught young child had fallen asleep upon pink haired form. Sleeping, by the cause of exhaustion from the tears she shed. The bravest and strongest of them all had cried herself to sleep over the cold corpse of their friend. It brought nothing but tears to the eyes of the Thompson twins with only the Son of Death to comfort them. Black Star left to follow his partner. No made comment on the tears that slowly trailed his own face.

It was left to the white haired scythe to take the meister home, though he performed the action with all the hesitance of their past friend. He knew as well as anyone else what was soon to follow this most horrid of nights.

Maka would mourn the loss of Chrona for weeks and even months to come. Her sorrow would differ from tears of remembrance to cries of pain, seeing images of the pink haired boy smiling at her for the few moments he did to imagining the same friend she had so willingly attached to die in ways far more gruesome than true. School would be forgotten to her, and missions would be a memory.

Soul would follow her through the tragedy of the loss, unwilling to show any tears he had, no matter how hard they wished to be released. If he were to break and mourn for a comrade and friend as Maka did, then neither would ever recover. She needed him to lean on, more than any battle before, and test their bond more than ever before. He would play the part he knew so well. The role of the loyal weapon to the powerful meister. He would be as much of a wall to lean on as he was battle. He wouldn't let Maka down now.

Tsubaki would grow could for as long as Maka, if not more. Gone would be her peaceful demeanor and sensible ways. For all the missions she and Black Star would under take, not once would the famed multi-form Fay-Blade offer advice to her meister, or even encouraging words to his ego. She would be silent as they lift, quiet in approach, stoic as they fought, and soundless as they left. In one of the worst ways possible, she would be closer to the Shinobi ways of her family than ever before.

Black Star would do all that he could to act off the misery he felt. He would grab missions by the dozens, attack enemies by the hundreds, and proclaim himself to even the thousands. Such hate he has for the feeling of loss that he will drown himself in the small actions of praise he would receive upon his missions. No amount of cajoling, criticizing, or mocking will possible sway the son of White Star from anything else than refusing to mourn one more lost soul.

The Twin Thompson Sisters would betray their once accepted traits in this time of grief. Patty would find less to laugh about, less to dance around, less to find cute, and less to see joy in. The once bubbly teen would slump against any surface of the home she lived within, unwilling to march one step further into a future that she feared would take only more precious people from here. For once Elizabeth would not be able to guide her. The eldest of the twins would do little more than groom herself needlessly repeatedly, checking the blushes, eye-liner, lip color, and even hair color. Any small task that is asked of her would be accepted without even thought of argument. Once it was done, she would return to her room, door locked and secret, and continue the pointless act of tidying herself.

The oddest would be Death the Kid. For all of them present, he would be the one who would need to learn the most from this. Teachers and Father alike would explain to the confused Shinigami of what this means. He would need to grow used to such loss, as the lives of his friends will never match the amount of time he would live. Even though now he may be surrounded by the joy of his companions, he would see the façade of acting as one of them, and slowly begin to distance himself from them all. Thinking and planning as the did better than most, he would hid himself in the confines of the library, studying for tests he already knew and learning of other events he would have to endure. He will always leave cavern of books with wet eyes and drooping lips.

No one would be the same after this. No one would emerge from this tragedy unscathed. As the River of Time so enjoys to remind those who live their lives outside of future, death is always the end of all life. No force of Earth or spirit existing could possibly give to those born of flesh and blood an escape from it's endlessly turning wheels. So young now are they learning this harsh lesson, and brutally are they teaching themselves. No one would emerge from this all right.

They will all be changed. They will all by transformed.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

It's so nice here. I don't feel a thing, nothing, nothing at all. I don't feel any chill on my spine, any heat on my face, any eyes on my form, or any pain through my veins. It doesn't need any thought to cope with. Nothing to think about to deal with. I'm completely numb to feeling, completely safe from it all.

Safe… When was the last time I could say such a word? When was the last time I felt so… at peace, so… care-free, so… unafraid…

Where am I?

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

No lights lit the dark halls of Shibusen, no moon lit the locked rooms. But still, in the infirmary, in the place void of life, in the area of healing, but just hours ago the sanctuary of mourning, something did move. Something did stir. And as it opened it's eyes.

Something did glow.


	5. Chapter 5: Honesty

**Author's Note:** Wow, right after my brief pity party at the beginning of the last chapter, I get three reviews just 12 hours later! Gotta say, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. But if anything happens that you think is too OC, or just unrealistic in terms of emotions, let me know, and I'll work on it. Thanks a million!

Digimon Dreamer: Wow! Thank you so much for the kind words!

Dino Kid: We'll just have to see how hard my classes get at Rose-Hulman.

The AnimeManga Dork: Kid would be proud of you, reviewer number 8.

* * *

This was far from the first time The Lord of Shibusen had dealt with loss. He had brought it, seen it, wrought it, created it, birthed it, and even offered it. Witches had felled his closest comrades in the uncountable amount of years they hunted them. Loss was never a thing he grew used to, and it was never a thing he hoped to. Once, he even had the thought that Loss was personified, as he was for Death. Should it have been, the Shinigami himself could picture the entity perfectly.

A horrendously thin woman, so weak in muscles and bone that even the lightest of fabrics would cripple her. Force to bare herself as she walked, she would take the very nourishment of the world around in order to sustain her endless river of tears. Marks fresh and old would line her already marred skin, markings of claws from the ones who hated her so for taking from them what she needed to grow. Peace to her weakens her, so she could never stand the endless peace. She would be the force that created the evils, whispered the Kishin Eggs, birthed the fear in Asura, and grew the seeds of misery.

All of his imaginings ended with him striking down such a scornful woman.

But now, there was a new variant in this process of loss. It wasn't he who lost an old friend, forced to hear from relatives his companions passing or forced to tell them of their son's, brother's, father's bravery. He was forced to explain the reality of what this mean to his son, and forced to think the impossible of how this had come to be.

No student had ever died during a mission such as this. They were given such training, such dedication, such wisdom and knowledge that this would never happen. Only the most random of chances could possibly force this kind of play of hand, and even then, one of his trusted allies in this endless war would be there to aid them. Spirit would descend and decapitate any monster that hid its strength. Maria would smash any creature foolish enough to trick those students who still saw innocence in the world. Sid would slice any foe cowardly enough to ambush hunters of their wicked souls. Close calls were common, accidents for sure, but never this, never death.

It was impossible for such a foe to hang on the wall for students to chase. No scout or messenger of his would have mistaken the strength of this Kishin egg to such a degree, and in no way did this… thing possible grow its strength enough to fight the Demon Blade Meister, the child of Medusa Gorgon. For all the hatred he knew that name brew, he knew none could deny the power that was also held in that name, the power her child must hold. There was no other way to justify it. The pink haired youth should not have died, and it fell on him for being so foolish, for hoping in place of acting that the name of Dracula was nothing more than a coincidence of nature.

But he was wrong. And because he was, a child lost his life just as he was learning to accept the love and peace around him. Nothing could begrudge Maka's tears, and he made sure to Stein of her expected absence. Spirit was excused as well. For all the loathing her daughter placed on him, he knew more than most that a child needed their parent's love more in misery than in any other time before.

All that remained for the master of life and death was one action, one order, one final duty to the first fallen student of Shibusen.

Finding the traitor within his midst.

{\*/}

"Lord Death, we still have not been able to locate the submitter of the mission, nor the scout who authorized it." I watch the manic doctor only feet before me reiterate what he had found. Not once did either of us show even the slightest amount of our normally jovial attitudes. We both know as much as any other how serious this matter truly is.

"Have you been able to discover the time it originated?" I ask straight to the doctor. There is to be no bush beating here.

"Yes, that I did in the least." With only mild interest I watch as his hands squirm within the folds of his white stitched jacket, ruffling a few of the objects within out of the way. His hand paused briefly, no doubt finally locating the item in question. The beyond mad scientist pulled forth a small bundle of papers, wrapped neatly with a bowed string. The thought reaches of me of how Marie very likely organized the letters during one of her many ventures through Stein's lab, but this… calamity… is far too important to even mention something as mundane as my Death Scythe's habits. I wait patiently as he works the knots of the string, unrolling the papers from within, reading over them briefly, then finally walking towards me, papers outstretched in hand.

"There was nothing odd about the time of the mission's placement." He spoke as he approached me. "It was requested by someone we don't know and confirmed by someone we can't name, but other than that, it followed all the proper channels." I take the letters from him when he is close enough, scanning over them briefly as he continues to speak. So far, he's right. The dates are all in order for the placement form, and even the seal of my school's office is stamped upon the front of it. It does my soul more harm to see it on the paper that caused on of my student's death than it did good the first moment I ever saw it raised.

"Sign offs, hanging, even followed the order in the roster of difficulty. There wasn't a thing out of place about it… at first." I look up to him at word. "This forms all check out through every ring and line of red tape we have. But as this was obviously far more dangerous than the scrap of paper you're holding lead it out to be, I had to do a bit more… dissecting into the matter." I try not to notice the mad grin that creeps on his face at the mere mention of the word, but it's as impossible as forgetting the situation we're in. Moving towards he, he moves his fingers down the lines of details of the mission. Location, transport, cost, efficiency, time, all the things the Communication Office was assigned to organize, making it that much faster to reach the Kishin Eggs, and that much harder to stop them from becoming full blooded monsters. What was so important in these details?

"The devil is in the details." Had I not known better, I would have asked when he learned to read minds.

"Here." He gently spoke to grab my attention. His pale finger drummed on one of the many lines. It was near the top, just beneath the sender's name, an obvious fake now but an excellent forgery then. My hidden eyes read the line, given the prefix of Location and ending with the site of the attack. I read it once, then twice, and as my eyes look into Stein's, I understand the devil he found.

"This is not the Carpathian Mountains." Though it drags out in the same voice by which I give all my speeches and talks, my words hold no less surprise then I'm sure Stein's did when he found it. The same manic grin grows across his face.

"Exactly." I watch mutely as he takes a drag from his cigarette, careful to blow the smoke from behind his hand. "Whomever arranged this contract did so with, what I can assume, is a proper mission that has yet to be fulfilled. Though I'm sure that problem will be quickly settled, as I've already made this clear to the Communication Office." He turns from me, seemingly prepared to leave. "I'll head to them myself and see to all who had a part in this mission's handling. They'll know who I am." Though I cannot see it, I can tell as easily as anyone else how broad that wicked grin on his face must be. But, I can tell there is something beneath his madness now.

In the classroom as a teacher, or years ago when he was but a student, he always hid his madness behind the subtlety of his words, only acting upon those horrific urges when there wasn't a one present to stop him. Not a teacher, nor even I, knew of his dark desires as a youth, and it wasn't until Spirit's confession of Stein's habits that we acted upon them. Now… now he's rolling in the manic behavior, not even attempting to bind the madness he knows can so easily swallow him, as it did only one year before. Something… something is terribly wrong with him.

"Stein." I call to him as I have every time before. Strong, but flexible. Proud, but humble. He hears me, I know, his footsteps slow to a stop, awaiting me to continue. Truth be told, I do not know what to say. I cannot assume to know what ails him, as it would only drive him down that madness further, should I guess wrong and leave him to think the worst. But silence would mean nothing, he will leave. But… there is a compromise I can see. I only hope the words that leave my skull encased mouth will move to their dance as they have so many times before.

"You have done enough work with this. Leave the rest to me." Shocking enough to force a response, but believable enough to not scoff off. I'm glad my millennia's worth of years alive has left my tongue with a sort of wisdom of its own. He turns to me, eyes questioning, hidden only by the few strands of gray hair and faint smoke of his cigarette. He's thinking of a response as I have. Though I loath this game as much as I do the Mistress of Loss, I know to play it as I have before. Passive, willing, strong, and victorious.

"I've already gone this far into it. I might as well finish it." I can still hear it as well as I can see it. Something beneath the mania that is pushing him, driving him, and pulling him all the same. I need to press in areas that may break. Gives names that I know have meaning to him. I might as well start with the obvious.

"This isn't a battle for Shibusen's safety, Stein. You need to rest, you've been working on this since the moment Chrona was brought back to us."

I didn't miss it.

Stein flinched at the name. His soul visibly quacked at the mere mention of the Demon Blade's meister. So it was about the boy's passing, his unfortunate time to meet me in a place far beyond the walls of Death City.

But what did the boy mean to him? Not a friend, as I have never seen the two socialize with anything besides wounds of the battlefield. Nothing among a sibling relationship either, far too apart in ages, ideals, and especially hobbies. Paternal? It was possible, and I know it was no secret the love Marie had for the boy, but I still need to confirm before I move. Chess is such a tedious game, but one with deadly consequences.

"Marie will need you more than Shibusen now. You did your part for Chrona." I continue to speak despite the second shiver that ripples through his cloak. "She was very fond of the boy, and I'm sure she'll need you to care for her now, just as she did for you."

I ignore the ringing of the silence that echoes through my ears, locking my unseen eyes upon the still form of the doctor before me. His head falls just a bit, enough to hide his eyes from my sight. His thoughts must be rapid, looking for something to say to justify his continuing effort in this most evil matter. Time means nothing to me, but even I find the length of time he is taking to be more than any conversation should allow. Perhaps I should speak again? No, that would simply restart his thinking. I already have him trapped. I just need to see him speak. No sooner do I think the thought than his head raises, showing his face to me in my spirit bound home.

Tears running down his scarred face.

"I promised." It was a whisper, maybe not even meant for me to hear, but I did hear it, as clear as the bells on Notre Dame. But I cannot recognize it. If I ask what he promised, he'll back away, deny it, and it'll take force to make him reveal what he is so close to unveiling. No, I need to guide him, not drag him.

"Huh?"

"I promised… Marie… Marie that we w…" His fists clench hard enough to draw blood. Red spots seeping through the think layer of cloth that makes up his pockets. He's shivering again, but I do nothing but watch and listen.

"I promised them both... that…" Now was the time to ask.

"Promised Marie that you would care for Chrona?" Close. Too close. The doctor's eyes glare fearlessly into my dark sockets, unafraid despite having the knowledge of my limitless power. His teeth clenched with such constrained rage that the cigarette in his mouth broke and soundlessly fell to the floor, neither of us recognizing its absence. For a time, we did nothing but stare at one another. I, questioning his very motives, and he, furious for suggesting what I had. I doubt either of us enjoys this position at all. Still, I continued to endure effortlessly the fire that was his gaze. I need to know what this drive he has is, for both planning for the future and pure curiosity.

"I promised Marie that we would adopt Chrona." Now THAT, I did not expect. The mask I wear hides my shock well, and I'm glad once more for it, for it seems that one sentence broke the dam that Stein was building.

"She loved Chrona with all her heart, caring for the boy when he was first brought here, never thinking less of him for what he was forced to do. Always guiding him, always aiding him. Even when he betrayed her she did little more just say she was disappointed. She loved him unconditionally, and only felt pain whenever he had to sleep alone in the cellar." He swallows on air, trying to control himself. Mutely I watch, knowing how important it is for him to say this.

"She asked me the day before last, right after he left for that damn mission. I didn't know what to think or even say. Adopt a kid? Me? One of the first to be corrupted by Asura's mania? How could I possibly raise a kid, even with Marie's help?" Shaky breaths leave his lungs as trembling hands rub the bridge of his nose. I think I could hear him laughing, but even young Black Star would be able to tell how sad the sound really is.

"But she reminded me, how he was just like me. Both Chrona and I grew up unloved, suffering for nothing, searching for everything. While I gave into the madness, he at least fought it. A losing battle, but he still fought." He looks at me with his tear stained face, smile as broad as ever.

"I could give him what I never had, make sure he grew up to be someone better than me, kinder than me. I promised Marie, as she silently promised Chrona, that we would adopt him, that we would raise him, that we would take care for him." Silence again. The way his eyes are dodging, the way his lips are moving. He's at the limit of what he can hold, but he's still trying so hard to keep himself from breaking. I'm proud of him most at moments like this. But it didn't matter, his next words did everything he would ever need.

"With his death, we broke every promise we ever made to him."

He turns to leave, and I do not stop him. This is… a new madness to him. It is not the wish to dissect and slaughter, nor is it the desire to seek chaos and gore. The doctor who now sorrowfully leaves my chambers is after a prize both new and ancient, sacred and unholy. It is one I doubt he seeks alone in this world, and I'm sure many others would gladly enter his mind to better themselves in finishing the task.

He is seeking vengeance, and I do not fault him.

"_LORD DEATH!_"

I'll have to congratulate the caller after this. It's not an easy task to scare the master of life death. Regardless, I turn away from Stein, who by now is nearing the red guillotine path. I know he'll continue his search for the Demon Blade meister's killer, and I will not be able to stop him short of force. He needs this as much as any father would.

On the mirror in my timeless chamber, I see the blue face of Sid the Zombie looking back at me. His white eyes are wide, and rotting mouth open on shock. Would he have the need, I'm sure I would be seeing gasps of air. Both of his blue, oxygen-deprived, hands grasp the sides of the mirror from which he is calling. Mira is behind him, but she is not looking towards me. Oddly enough, it appears as if she is frantically searching for something. The few items I can see are opened, turned, lifted, ripped, and even broken apart. It doesn't take my mind, let alone a clever one, to know the urgency behind the call.

"Sid. What appears to be wrong?" Childish as my voice always is, I respond to his shout, attempting to hold my oblivious nature to the scene around him as long as possible. But what he says does much. It freezes Stein in his short trek. The cigar dropping from his mouth in shock and fear. Myself stiffening as if insulted by Mabaa face-to-face. I doubt now I would even be able to speak should I have tried.

"_CHRONA IS GONE!_"

I can only stare mutely at the mirror of my chambers, neither speaking nor moving. Not listening nor feeling.

This… this just couldn't be possible. Not in my school… not in _MY_ city.

What… what is going on?

"_What should I do, Lord Shinigami_?" I can hear Sid's question echo through my ears, panic as clear on his voice as I'm sure it is on Stein's face. This was… unprecedented. Unbelievable. A witch had invaded our city before, and a Kishin even revived, but never before… never… had there been a death, a traitor… now stealing corpses? The dead from literally right beneath our noses?

I have no idea what to do. None at all.

So I say what every leader speaks, when actions are impossible, and thoughts frayed.

"Find him. Now."

Running echo behind me, Stein running away. The small mirror with Sid vanishes, leaving with me staring at myself. The mask hides everything, but blunts nothing.

I'm failing my city. My people. My home.

What can be done?

{\*/}

From morning rise to night fall, the heads and staff of Shibusen searched the entirety of Death City for the body of the Black Blood Meister. From the laughing sun's rise till the grinning moon's set, not one of them saw it safe to rest.

Stein pushed aside any plan to visit the Communications Office, instead moving to search the city with eyes of the physical world and beyond. From door to door, he banged and broke every obstacle that dared to keep him from his search. More than one family was scared to death, a stitched man of unsound man breaking their door with force alone. Yet nothing of harm came upon them, only fear of the purest most undeniable kind.

Marie, for the first time in a long time, went against the wishes of the Lord of Life and Death. She did not search Shibusen for the desperate scientist, nor did she try and explain to the terrified and mortified residents the reason behind the destruction. She aided in it, contributed most, and stopped at nothing. Despite what the title meant, she was nothing less than a mother searching for her child, holding to blind faith through her destructive search.

Event the great Grim Reaper himself was not immune to the waves of guilt and admission. For all the souls he had lost through his time of life, never once were one a child, let alone a student he swore protection to as long as he was a member of Shibusen. For all the moments he had prepared for, for defeat at the hands of an enemy, for the loss of his staff, when their time honestly came, for even the destruction of his city, as it had happened more than once before. But a student was out of the question. So full of distraught was the Master of the Living and Ruler of the Dead that he did nothing to even question the rage of Death Scythe and Meister. If his actions brought the death of a student, and one more dear to his two most trusted advisors, perhaps his inaction would redeem it. If nothing else, it was an outlet for the rage the so rightfully deserved to express. For once, Death did nothing to stop the destruction of his own city.

But for those who did not hear, but had even more reason to care, the destruction the city in their time of grief was shocking in the very least. Though far less than the whole of Spartoi dashed to see the problem, it was the blue man of Shibusen who told them of the chaos, and ultimately, helped them to join in.

Black Star, the inpatient, spontaneous Black Star, did more than simply destroy and search. He grabbed bystanders off the street, yelling into their faces as if each one of them held a piece to this horrific puzzle. Not even listening to the cried of protests or shrieks of freight, he moved from door to door, home to home, place to place, searching in his own way for one of his friends, acting for all the world that he would find the pink haired youth curling in a corner muttering needless apologizes. Tsubaki mutely followed Black Star, not once reprimanding him for his outrageous behavior, scorning him for his impulsiveness, or asking kindly of him to even slow down. She followed blindly and mournfully.

Soul took the place of Maka in the search. Too distraught was his meister to possibly even know of her this disappearance. The death was bad enough, robbery in death would only force her into madness not unlike before. So with the blonde tactician in her room, tears spilling for her eyes even as she slept, no doubt dreaming of the innocent boy, he took to the all the alleys he could care to remember. Using every ounce of wisdom he ever had, and with all the concentration he could ever hope to obtain, to search, deduce and track the thief of his friend's body. He found nothing.

Death the Kid was lost. Only so recently he learned that he would have to deal with the loss of his friends like Chrona, but now he was told that even looking upon his departed friend's face was impossible. It was the lack of symmetry, nor someone's refusal to adapt to his ways, it was the unfairness of events that made Death the Kid plunge himself into a fit of sorrow. Liz and Patty did nothing to blame. Rather, they took the place they knew he wanted to be, but had no will left to take. The took to the streets, as their teachers and friends already had, searching for their friend in a way none of them ever hoped, or even thought.

But no one found the Thief, not even a Joker to brag about their absence of time. No clues were found, no residents missing, no mysterious entryway, nor even a surprise grape vine. It was beyond any insult, and horror, and reality they care to believe. What had happened to their friend? What had happened to their student? What had happened to their child?

What had happened to Chrona?

{\*/}

I don't know what to think. I thought I wouldn't be able to deal with this. Walking alone at night, down the dark alleys of Shibusen, without Maka by my side. For so many days and nights I had nightmares of such a thing, being completely alone again. But now that it's happened, I don't think I've ever felt more at peace.

No need to care about the eyes on me, since they can no longer see me. No need to fear the hands of strangers, as they can no longer to touch me. No need to interact with any else, because they wouldn't even know I was there. Dealing with nothing, worrying about nothing, all because I have nothing.

It's so easy to deal with.

I love it, I love it more than anything I've ever felt before. More than when Maka had held me for the first time. More than when Maka had toured me through Shibusen. More than when Maka had made it clear that I was her friend. More than when Maka had come to save my life. More than when Maka had… Even more than when Maka had… Maka… had…

I miss Maka.

I miss her angelic blonde hair, I miss her peaceful forest eyes, I miss her long black coat, I miss her innocent warm smile, I miss her soft loving hands, I miss her strong confident voice, I miss her loving nature, I miss her wise confident nature. I miss all of it. I miss all of her. I should see her, I need to see her. She'll understand, she'll know why this is so great. Maybe I'll even be able to tell her how much I love her.

{\*/}

For all their trials and tribulations, for all their efforts and work, no one noticed the shadow of a man creep into the home of the broken Scythe Meister.

{\*/}

I can see him everywhere. He's all around me, waiting for me. Waiting with that small smile he so rarely gave. Sitting on a bench I don't know where, eyes closed enjoying I don 't know what. More at peace than I've ever seen him before. Every I turn away from the thing I know to be an illusion; I'm faced with it all over again. Left, right, forward behind, even up and down. My vision, my dreams, he there, he's always there.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

Isn't this what we fought so hard to stop? Needless killing, young sorrow? These things were supposed to have died with Asura, nothing but death through age and innocence through youth should have remained. But now here I am, mourning with visions of the one boy I couldn't save, and who nobody else even tried to care about. Why was I the only one to care about him? Why did nobody else cry? Why… Why…

I roll over in the blankets, their warmth doing nothing for how cold and helpless I feel. Maybe this is how Chrona always felt? No matter how much comfort I offered him, he never was able to break away from his shy ways. Always seeking the corners of the room, looking for shadows to hide within, clinging to the walls as he moved, running to my arms whenever he was terrified… running to… to me…

The tears wet my already damp pillow, spilling from my eyes as the dry coughs and whimpers came from my throat. No matter how many times I weep for him, the pain of reality returns with more pain than I imagine I'd ever dream to bear. Instinctively, I grip my moist pillow, hugging it to me like a child would their toys, or a mother hold their child. It brought neither comfort nor reprise from the dread of reality. The action only reminded me just how alone Chrona really was.

I never gave him enough, because he needed more. It wasn't the same as a child crying for a toy or a teens begging for a car. This was a scared tortured boy, deprived of the most basic and beautiful of emotions for all his life. Holding a shriveled man from water, Chrona was no different when put next to love. Abused and hated by his own mother, laughed and mocked by his weapon, feared and beaten by his foes. I really was the first to offer him anything, but I still held him at arm's length, trying to keep myself from attaching to him.

Maybe… Maybe I was scared to grow close to him. Maybe… Maybe I just needed something to drink. Something strong, that is.

It almost hurts me to remove the blankets from my form, being assaulted by the cold air of the room matching my frozen soul. My muscles ache as their set on the cold wood floor, weakened from my mourning soul. Blood rushes to my head as I move to sit on the bedside, waiting for my body to adjust to the change. How long had I cried for? Probably all day. But was that even enough? If I was the only one crying for Chrona, would only a day of tears be enough to honor him? No, of course not. I'd have to cry for eternity to possibly to his departed soul any good. The tears are falling from my eyes again. I don't even try to wipe them away.

As if it was the first time in months, I move my feet into the kitchen, holding one hand against the wall as I move. There's no point in turning on the lights, I'm going back to my bed after this. Back to mourn with tears and muffled cries alone in the dark. A few tears slide down my already wet cheeks at the thought. Not the thought of mourning, the thought of who I'm mourning for. For Chrona, poor robbed, innocent Chrona.

"D-Dammit." I swear to myself as my legs give in the hallways, forcing me to my knees as I lean on the wall, curling in on myself at the pain. My very soul is shriveling with the pain, breaking my body and crushing my courage. I've face a demon made of man, witches who broke Shibusen, and even monsters that ate the flesh of women and children, but here, in my own home, I'm more afraid than I've ever been before.

I'm afraid that this will never end, that I'll never forgive myself for Chrona's needless pointless, death. And how could I? I failed him? I completely and totally failed the promise that I swore to upkeep. I let him die after assuring him he'd never face harm again, let him die alone after we all vowed he would be loved from then on. We all failed him, but I did more than any other. I completely and totally failed him.

"Chrona…" I whimper his name to myself, hiccupping as the tears slide down my throat. "I'm sorry Chrona… I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Arms, my arms, reach around my thin form, trying to give what little comfort I can to myself in this dark time.

"Forgive me Chrona. Please forgive me…"

"For what Maka?"

I waste no time.

My head turns on a dime, and my eyes are wide to see in the darkness of the hall.

I see him. I _SEE_ him.

But he can't be there. He's not there. He's… he's dead.

"Chr…Chr-Chrona?" I choke, gasp, and sob as the name leaves my throat, eyes unblinking at the form above me.

Pink hair dances down the pale face, the locks and ends reaching just past the chin, given form only by the slightest of moon rays. A dark black dress flows down his body, the same dress I saw him wear before he left, and wore on the bed in Shibusen just the day past.

"Maka, what's wrong?"

His skin is pale, so pale, deathly pale. Paler than before, paler than when he left, paler than when he was on the bed. It glows in the darkness like a faint guiding light, a lantern in the fog, guiding me away from the sorrow. He's kneeling by me now, both hands and knees before me.

"Are you alright Maka?"

His voice is the same. The same innocent sweet voice I know and care all my heart for. The voice that tore my soul apart to never heal again, but now mended it better than any medicine or length of time ever could. It is Chrona. It has to be Chrona. It has to be.

It _HAS _to be!

"Ch-Chrona?" My hand shakes as if near death, nervous to know that touching his face would push him away, send him away from me forever again. I can't do it. I can't risk it. So with the thought, my hand begins to drop, happy to know that I'll enjoy the illusion of the pink haired boy me more than anything else now. Yes, I'll take this dream over reality. But something's… something's not right. Why hasn't my hand fallen yet? Why hasn't it returned to me side? Looking down with barely a care, I shock my self with what I see.

_HE'S_ holding it. Chrona is _HOLDING _ my hand.

"A-Are you hurt?" He's real. He's here. He's alive.

"M-M-Maka?" Not dead. Not gone. Here, with _ME_.

"Please s-say something." I'm not going to say anything more.

I throw myself into his arms, aches and pains be damned.

I hit his chest with a pathetic amount of force; something I doubt would even phase most in a fight. But I don't care. I don't care about any of that now! All I care about his him, here with him. Holding onto him like the lifeline I know him to be, crying fresh tears of joy, tears I thought I'd never be able to shed again. Not from sorrow and loss, but renewal and love. Love.

"Chrona! Chrona-a-a!" I cry into his chest shamelessly, near tearing the black fabric that drapes his body. Nothing about me is being restrained in this moment. Without thinking, without trying, I had barred myself from knowing just how much this boy meant to me. I would never make that mistake again. I feel his arms wrap around me, hesitantly, as I knew him to be, as I loved him to be.

"W-What's… Maka?" He doesn't even know what to say, let alone think. I'll tell him later, definitely. But for know, all I want is to be here, right here. Wrapped in his arms, holding him close, never letting him go.

"I'll… I'll never lea-leave you again Ch-Chrona." The words choke out of me as a drown in my joy filled tears, renewing the promise I knew I had broken. "P-Please don't l-leave me." I feel his arms, his oh so secretly strong arms, hold me even tighter against him, guarding me from whatever force we both know to be trying to do just that. Takes us from one another.

"I won't." He sounds so strong, so confident, but still so shy. Chrona, my Chrona. By now he's probably able to feel my tears like a faucet of water through his gown, and I can't find it in myself to care. His own tears drip on my head, matting my strewn blood hair with their moisture. Like this, holding one another, crying for one another, loving one another, I love it.

His few tears glide down my face, mixing with my own across my flushed cheeks. I still don't care, pulling even harder against the black material, knowing that any air between us is too much at all. The his salty tears trace the path my own had taken, falling down my face to my neck, dripping from my strained face onto his dark dress, the wooden floor, and even a few made their way into my gasping mouth. When they did… I gagged.

Those weren't tears.

Reluctantly, unable to justify letting him go, I release my hand from Chrona, brushing it across my face, pulling back with it the tears that mar me. The sight freezes my coughs and tears, because I'm holding an item most fowl.

Blood. Red Blood.

When did I get injured? It can't be Chrona's blood, his blood is black. But then how did I get hurt? Maybe I hit the wall harder than I thought. My hand moves past my face, tracing the blonde lines of my hair in search of the wound. It would have to be fresh, and it can't be hard to miss a cut on my skin. But I can't find anything, nothing. There isn't a single mark on me. But I feel it again, Chrona's tears drip on me, still crying for what we almost lost. I can hardly blame him. But… it's not quite right.

I bring my hand back down, looking at it while I still hold the pink haired boy's body close to mine. What I see stops my soul, freezes my body, and crushes my will.

Blood. Chrona was crying tears of red blood.


	6. Chapter 6: Confession

**Author's Note:** Hey, does anyone know how to edit the text in a story? Whenever I go to edit, all it does is let me change the title or delete the chapter. I just saw a MASSIVE amount of typos in my first two chapters, probably because I wrote them while I was pulling two all nighters, but I really would like to fix them up.

Anyway, pity party over. I hope that you guys will still enjoy the story as it goes, and understand, that I'm trying to make the characters as true to their form as possible. Black Star isn't going to start crying, Stein isn't going to become passionate, Maka isn't going to become submissive. None of that is possible, so it won't happen.

Last annoying comment. If anyone is against me putting an OC in this story, please comment and let me know. You have this chapter and the next to tell me, otherwise I'm going to start planning him in. If anyone is against it, I'll toss him.

ENJOY!

* * *

"M-Maka?" She's shivering in my arms, shaking as she looks at me. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her? No, I couldn't have, I wouldn't have. Not my angel, not Maka. Never Maka. My hand moves from her back to her hand, searching for it. But I don't know why, I can't say why. Somehow, holding her hand seems right, like how she so often does for me. I do find it, right between our chests. I see her eyes slowly turn down to it, as if unsure that I'm the one actually touching her. But why is that so hard to believe? She's the only one I can do this with. I don't know how to deal with anyone else.

"Did… Did I d-d-do something… wrong?" Please tell me I didn't. Please tell me I didn't. I wouldn't know how to deal with Maka being sad, sad because of me. She looks at me again, her green eyes, beautiful flawless emerald eyes, looking into my own.

"C-Chrona." She spoke in a broken whisper. That wasn't good. I did do something wrong. What did I do? Did I hurt her? Did I anger her? Did I kill someone? No! No I didn't! What did I do wrong?

"I'm sorry Maka." My eyes squeeze shut as I say it. I don't know what I'm apologizing for, but I will apologize no matter what it is. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Please forgive me. I didn't mean to do it, whatever it is. I'll mean it if it hurts you. Please forgive me.

"No. Chrona, you did n-nothing wrong." I didn't? I didn't. Good. Good. Then why is she still so scared? I think she can read my mind, because she raises one of her hands to my head, angling it down below her head. I want to ask why, I have to ask why. But before the air can escape my lips, I see her hand. At the sight, I only suck in more.

There's blood on her glove.

Red, crimson liquid stains her pure white gloves. A wicked deed tainting her pure honestly good soul. She is hurt! Who hurt her? Did I hurt her? What happened? Did I hold her too hard? Did I hit her? Did I scratch her? Was she attacked? Was it all my fault?

"Chrona." She says my name, and all my attention is on her again, though I know the fear is on my face. "It's not my blood." She says is so hesitantly, worriedly, frightened, scared. Why scared? Scared because of me? No stop. Who's blood is it? Not hers, not mine, cannot be mine. My blood is black. Everyone knows that, especially Maka. So whose blood is it?

"W-whose blood is i-it?" The way her eyes are looking at me, they way her lips are trembling. I can't cope with this. I can't deal with this. "M-Maka?"

"It's your blood Chrona." What? No, that's not right. I have to tell her she's wrong.

"My b-blood is black Maka." I know she knows, so why is she saying the blood is mine? It can't be mine, not with Ragnarok. She's not saying anything else thought. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her? Before I can ask, her hand is touching my face, gliding across the skin beneath my eyes, trembling from I can't tell what. All I know is the shear shock I have. What… What was she doing? Was she trying to comfort me again? Do I need to be comforted? No, no I don't. I don't have anything I need to deal with. I'm happy. This is why I came here. To show her, tell her, tell her everything. But before I do, she shows me her hand again, the same hand that had just so recently ran across my pale flesh, and it freezes me faster than ice.

Red blood.

New red blood.

It… it came from… from me? No, that's… that's impossible. But still, how… why would Maka lie to me? I… I just need to see for myself. My own bare hand run across my face, far rougher than her own silk-like skin, but I ignore, instead grabbing at the tears on my face, the tears I had shed as Maka had wept into me. I look at the myself, and the air leaves me.

It's blood. And it's red…

"How?" How? "H-how? R-Ragnarok? Raganaok!" I'm shouting, I need to shout. Where is he? Where's Ragnarok? Where's my blade, where's my friend, where's my only companion? Where is he! I'm shouting louder than I ever have before, calling for him with all my might, so frightened I can't even tell how hard Maka is holding me. But this isn't right. It can't be right, none of it. It has to be a dream, all some horridly beautiful dream.

I grow silent with the realization, my cries of torment and pleas for answers dying.

That's why I can deal with things, that's why I don't feel anything. It's all a dream, none of this is real. Ragnarok isn't gone, I'm not happy, Maka isn't crying for me. None of this is real, it can't be. Not with Ragnarok gone, not with my black blood gone.

It just wouldn't make any sense, not any at all.

"I-it's a dream, right Maka?" I smile as I speak it. She would be so proud of me, figuring it out all on my own. But she looks even sadder now. Why? Why would be even sadder? Why would she be crying? This isn't right, this can't be real, none of it. I… couldn't deal with this being real. I can deal without feeling anything, that's easy. But… but I need Ragnarok… I _NEED_ him!

It takes me a moment to realize that Maka's standing above me, no longer in my arms. Her hand is still holding mine though, my… my red blood mixing on both of our hands. The way she looks at me, it's new. I don't know how to deal with this. She looks at me like she did in the dungeon, a face of compassion and care, but then… then I also see the face she gave me back at Me… my mother's lair. Tears staining her perfect features with a grimace of pain. She's pulling my arm, for what? Oh, she wants me to follow her, I know how to deal with that.

I slowly rise to my feet, never letting my eyes drift from her. I wouldn't know how to deal with it. But I feel her pull me, and I follow. This is how it was just days ago. Maka leading me through school, through Shibusen, through Death City, throu all of it with a smile on her face. Now, she was doing it again, but for a reason that I hated. I didn't like dealing with this.

But… But she was just leading me out of the dream. That's right, that's all this was. My Maka was going to bring me back to Shibusen with her, with Ragnarok, with everyone. Away from this horrible nightmare where Ragnarok wasn't with me, where Maka cried because I was near here. Turning down the halls, I wonder briefly why she is turning on the lights. It's so bright in her home already. I can tell where every plank of wood is, scratch on the wall, and even where the odd purple cat is currently sleeping. She's shivering on the sofa, her tail wrapped around her body, pulling the odd witch hat over face. I wonder how she can deal that. Wouldn't it get warm in there? Wouldn't it be hard to breath? But I'm not going to ask, not now. It wouldn't matter.

I'm going to see Ragnarok again, and he's going to call me a Dyke, going to pull my hair and twist my ears. But I won't mind, I can deal with him. He's the only friend I ever had when I was with my mother. He would protect me, save me, help me, heal me. I couldn't deal with knowing he was gone, knowing that he wouldn't come back. But that didn't matter, because I knew he was, because Maka was taking me to him.

But then she takes me into her bathroom, and I almost pull away. I don't know how to deal with being with Maka in a bathroom, alone. But… but it's just a dream, so it doesn't matter. She'll probably smash the mirror and turn on the faucet, and I'll wake up on the train to the Carpathian mountains with Ragnarok sleeping in my hair. That… that sounds right. I can deal with that, I can deal with this being a dream. Maka moves to the wall, my eyes on her the entire time. Hitting a switch the room is flooded with blinding light.

I cringe at it, squeezing my hand as I held the other to my eyes. It was so so bright! Why did Maka have such bright lights in her bathroom? Why did she need to turn on the lights at all? I don't know how to deal with this.

"C-Chrona." She says my name again. I open my hand just a little, enough to look at her. The light isn't as bad now, but it's still so bright. I want to curl in on myself, maybe then the light will go away. I don't know how to deal with such a bright light.

"C-Can you turn d-d-down the l-light, Maka?" I see hint of realization spark across her face as she hits the switch… but… she still looks so sad. Why? Did she want the lights on? Would it be better if they were? I can't deal with Maka being sad. But then I saw it again, the look I hadn't seen in months.

The way she steeled herself, a deep breath with a high chin. It was her bravery given form, knowing she was going to face a fear, but still charging into it head on. What was she afraid of? Was she afraid of me? Did she think I was going to hurt her? Never. I would never hurt Maka.

"Chrona." She spoke it with the voice I know and remember, the voice she first spoke to me as a friend. Her hand moved away from pointing to the wall just across from where we entered. "Look at the mirror." But I don't want to. I want to look at her eyes, but she's hiding them from me, letting her blonde locks hid her forest green eyes from me. Why? Did she think I was disgusting? Did she think I was going to hurt her? But I wouldn't! I know I never would! Maybe… Maybe if I look at the mirror I'll wake up from this horrible nightmare, wake up on the train to find the Kishin Egg. Everything would be fine. I have to try, I have to. My eyes move to the mirror, hoping with all my heart that I would wake up the moment I did.

But I see nothing, nothing but Maka's back and hair, the walls of the bathroom, and the door just behind.

But I'm not there.

Nothing. Not my hair, not my face, not my eyes, not even my dress. Not there. Not real. Not… Not…

I don't know how to deal with this.

"M-M-M-Maka?" She looks at me, I can tell, but I'm not looking at her. I'm still staring at the mirror, the thing that has to be lying to me. I see her back move in the mirror, and her eyes are undoubtedly facing where I am standing. But in the mirror, she's looking at nothing, facing nothing, listening to nothing. It's too hard to deal with.

"W-W-What hap-p-p-pened to me?" As I say it, my hand rises, or at least I feel it rise. Moving the muscles so it's pointing at the mirror before me. But I still see no reflection of me, or any part of me. Just Maka, only Maka, turning to the mirror herself. I watch her relfection gasp in shock, watch her head twists back and forth, and watch the fresh tears roll down her face. I'm crying too. I know I am. How could I not be?

I collapse, knees hitting her floor as I lurch in on myself. I don't want to see the mirror, I don't want to see anything. I want to wake up, I want this to end! This is a dream! This is a dream! Let me wake up! Let me wake up!

I feel Maka next to me, feel her arms holding me like I'm holding myself, curling around my pathetic frame as I cry blood, cry _RED_ blood. I hate this. I can't deal with this. I can't accept this. I don't even know what this is! I… I don't even know what I am…

"W-W-What a-a-am I-I?" It's the most pathetic thing I've ever asked, but I've never wanted to know anything more than this now. Through my tears and whimpers of unfelt pain, I hear Maka still next to me, crying on my shoulder, mourning what I no longer am. But she speak still, through the pain I know, but don't hope, she is feeling, whispering a word I never thought real, a curse I never believed in. With a witch for a mother, a weapon of blood, and Shinigami himself as an ally, I never once believed in the thing Maka calls me. But she says it, and I know she's right.

"A Vampire."

I can't remember crying any harder than I do now.

{\*/}

Neither of them could believe the fate of the swordsman. Too unreal for reality, too impossible for fantasy.

{\*/}

How… How did this happen? How was this even possible?

Chrona… sweet shy innocent Chrona… a vampire? It didn't make any sense. I didn't even know how to deal with it. How could he? This was beyond anything I had ever prepared for, worse than almost anything I could have possibly imagined. I grip him harder and harder beneath me, not caring in the slightest how his bloody tears stained my white clothes. His own fingers flexed against the black material of his dress, hoping and praying as he cried. He was so sure this was a dream, that I was a dream, that this was all fake… and I now I was praying the same thing.

That I would wake up near the house of Father Ketcham, Soul just above, calling my nap an uncool thing to do in public, or maybe just wake up from this nightmare in my room, Chrona down the hall as he waited for me. There… There was no way this was real. A vampire? A monster? How could this even be possible? And even if it was, why him? Why couldn't it of been me? Why couldn't I keep him safe from at least one pain of this world? I couldn't save him from Medusa, I couldn't save him from the pain, all I did was heal, but never stop. Aid, but never cure. And now I had every sign to help him, and I threw them all away. Chrona… Chrona please fogive me.

"Chrona…" I started, speaking the thought that was plaguing my mind worse than any disease. "I'm sorry Chrona…" It was a pathetic whisper on my part, almost a whimper from where my face rested on his back. This was unfair… so unfair.

"Vampire. Vampire. Vampire." Chrona was chanting the name as I held him. "Vampires… are monsters." I feel him tense beneath me. "I'm a monster… again…"

"No!" I shout as I spin him around. He ends up on his back, arms still wrapped around his frame. He looks up at me, and I cannot stop myself from gasping. The thought reaches my mind before I even have the will to stop it, bringing the tears fresh to my eyes.

He does look like a monster.

The way his eyes glow in an unholy manner despite the darkness of the room, a deep red that tells me nothing of the innocence that Chrona once had, but only speaking unheard words of power, agony, and betrayal. Blood, so off-colored red blood, smeared across his face, no different than if he had gutted a man off the street, unwilling to wipe the blood that met his skin. It clashed hard and mercilessly with the pallor of white flesh. Unforgiving marks of rage and sin. With his mouth open as it was, from cries of misery and sorrow, his teeth showed with the glowing red of his eyes. The fangs couldn't be concealed even if he wished them to be, and I know he must wish more than anything else now for them to be hidden completely. But… but this can be it. It can just be his features, just the things that people see.

He's still Chrona. He's still the sweet boy that was forced to do the most evil things, regretting his actions with every swipe of his blade. Still, the shy boy that clung to me wherever we went, unwilling to let anyone near that I didn't approve of, trusting me with his very life. Still the boy that Mrs. Marie and Mr. Stein care for like a child, constantly checking on him, watching him, loving him from both near and afar. That's still who he is, that's all that matters.

"You're not a monster Chrona." I speak with all the courage I have. "You're still you. You still think like Chrona, you still wonder like Chrona, your still as shy as Chrona. You _ARE_ my Chrona!" My hands grip his shoulders as I stare into his blood red eyes, unfazed by the way they shrink at my words. "I don't care what happened to you, and I doubt anyone else will as well. You're still the same shy boy that everyone cares for and no nothing… _NOTHING_ will change that."

He's whimpering now, fresh tears of blood pooling at the edges of his eyes. It almost sends me off him, the way it collects. Almost… but I'll damn him if I break now. He needs me, just like he always has, and I won't stop now. Not now. Not ever.

"This is no different than before." I gently let go of him, not too fast to worry him, before I begin to speak again. "Your mother forced you do fight us, and that monster forced you to become… this. But that doesn't mean you are one. Your soul-" His soul…

He didn't have one.

Look as hard as I am, try as hard as I might. I see nothing. Just… space…

A body, a mind, a beat-less heart, but no soul.

Empty space, empty soul…

"M-M-Maka!" He is calling me know. Chrona… "Please d-d-don't cry M-M-Maka!" I am crying, aren't I? How can't I be?

Chrona is soulless.

"I'm s-s-sorry Maka! I'm s-sorry! I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" His head was pushing against my chest, his hand pulling against my heavily stained clothes. Looking down, I don't see anything there. Still nothing, still hallow, still empty, still dead…

No. _NO_!

I pull my arms around his head, pulling him to me with all the strength I have left. I can't let him go. I _CAN'T_ let him go! I'm holding him, touching him, feeling him. He's crying on my chest, wetting my clothes and skin. He's speaking to me, letting out whimpering apologies that I should be giving to him. He's clinging to me, holding the last lifeline he must see me as. How can he not be real? How can this be fake? It isn't because it can't be. So it isn't.

"It's okay Chrona." I speak his name as I stroke his hair. I feel his head lean into my hand, yearning the touch of my skin against his as I savor the feel of his face against my palm. It is cold, unnaturally so. But I can't bring myself to care. This… This _IS_ Chrona. I know it is.

"Everything will be okay."

I don't think either of us believe that.

{\*/}

Mute words were spoken between the blonde and pink meister. Only the strength of Chrona's hold and guidance of Maka's hands being the communication between the two. The once called Master of Black Blood followed his blonde companion through moonlit streets of Death City, hands clenched together as they so commonly traveled before. Chrona dared not to let his eyes wander anywhere past the Scythe meister, still filled with the unreasonable fear that she would be gone if he did. It was much the same reason she wordlessly refused to release his hand.

As they approached the mighty fortress like school of Shibusen, Maka began to slow. Her pacing decreased as her feet shrunk in reach. Soon it ended that she was walking up the steps in a hesitant manner, afraid of what she was about to do, and that mad Chrona all the more terrified. His hand clenched hers, hoping and praying for all his might that this was still the dream he believed it to be. And when he looked up, looked back to the blonde he so deeply cared for, he saw more than just her blonde locks and tails.

He saw her smile, the same smile that showed him all the sins of his life, and all the reasons to follow her. It was the smile that he believed he had stolen, and the one he had sacrificed himself to see again. It was what made him believe for so long, what he told him self for many nights, that he was lucky enough to be her friend, and anything more would ruin that smile.

But here she was, freely giving the smile again as if nothing had happened at all. Like he wasn't a vampire, that he didn't die, that she wasn't worried, that he wasn't terrified, that this all was a cruel joke and it would all be over soon. It was hard to describe, impossible to name, but just seeing the smile, watching her face, brought peace to the young cursed man. She started strong again, venturing into the Black Castle of The Shinigami. All it took was a look at the boy she had promised to protect, and she knew where her courage was.

With the young man she knew she cared for so greatly.

In the shadows of night, with the absence of light, the two moved through the halls of the school. Maka, holding her free hand against the wall as she moved, afraid that she might loose herself in the darkness, and Chrona, wondering why she needed to, given to him the halls were as bright as the rays of the sun. Nevertheless, he held onto her hand, keeping his eyes on her, still holding the unnatural fear that she would soon be gone. It didn't take long for them to reach their destination, but even then they halted at the door. Even before the horrid mission, Chrona never found a sense of peace within the room, constantly wondering how to deal with the things around, and unsure of how to understand the person… or spirit… that lived within. The paradox he spend days wondering over, and nights needlessly worrying. But now, they were both worried, both fearful for reasons far greater than simply misunderstanding. For all either of them knew, it would be Chrona's last steps, and Maka's last line. With a deep breath for both her body and soul, Maka pushed the doors open, walking inside as a wiling Chrona followed.

{\*/}

I never did find it easy to deal with this room. Every part about it reminds me of death. Guillotine gates, sword marked tombstones, a single path down an endless plain, even knowing that at the end itself, the Shinigami awaits. I never could deal with it before. But… but now… I don't feel anything. I don't feel the need to understand why the gates are red, why each sword is different, why it's day in here when it's night out there, why any of this is real, yet so unreal. I… I don't know why I don't care, why I can deal with it, but… but it's nice… nice not having to worry. But that's wrong. _WRONG!_ I'm not used to this place, and I still don't know how to deal with all these symbols of death, or even how to interact with them. Maybe… maybe I'm just too worried about why we're here… Yeah… that's it.

Having to tell Lord Death I'm a vampire.

How do I tell Lord Death that I'm alive again? How do I deal with him staring down at me, questioning me, analyzing me? Will he even care to keep me? Will he kick me out of his city? What if I never see Maka again? I wouldn't know how to deal with that! I need to be with Maka! Just the thought made me clench her hand even harder, making sure she wasn't going to go anywhere. If she did, I would follow her. Beyond the walls of Death City, beyond the territories of the Witches, into the lands that Kishin's fear to tred** (1)**, I will follow her.

It takes me a moment to realize that we have already reached the mirror of Lord Death, plain and outplace in the center of its stage. As she had before, and so many others before her, Maka reaches her hand towards the mirror, ready to spell the calling number. She was calling Death incarnate, as I had even see her do, but… but this was different. I don't know if Lord Death will still see me as an ally, if he'll still let me stay in his city with Maka. But… but I won't stop her. I trust Maka, and I trust what she does more than I trust my own thoughts, more than I trust my own actions. But I still can't watch.

My eyes clothes and my head turns from her, but my hands remained clenched against the one she had offered me, and had yet to ask for back. Blindly, I listen to her voice hum the number for the oh so powerful master of Life and Death.

"Shi-ni." Please don't let him be angry.

"Shi-ni" Please don't let him be angry.

"Go-ro-shi." Please.

"Hello." Ple- Was that Lord Death?

I have to open my eyes now. That didn't sound like Lord Death, it didn't sound anything like the Shinigami that I both fear and respect, that witches just fear. He sounded… bored, let go, released, uncaring, resentful even. What happened? Did he already know I was here? Did he know I was alive? Did he hate me for being here? Did he hate me for being a mon… a vampire? Did he hate Maka for bringing me here? That I couldn't deal with.

I could deal with him hating me, I could deal with anything hating me. I had learned to cope with it for my entire life. But anyone hating Maka, because of me… there was no way I could deal with that…

"Hello Lord Death." I hear Maka return. "I… I hope this isn't a bad time." I'm still hiding behind here, finding the swords off to the side more fascinating than any thing I think I'd see if I looked in front of her.

"No No Maka, I'm just… tired." Oh, just tired… that makes sense though. It is night, and everyone is asleep. I can deal that.

"Oh I'm sorry Lord Death!" Maka replied earnestly. "I just have… something's happened."

"Shouldn't you be at home Maka?" I guess it was Lord Death. He's the only person I know that can dodge someone's conversation for one of his own. "This has been a very stressful week for us all. No one nearly as much as you." I don't need to see him to know his massive hand is pointing at her. It feels like he is accusing her of something, and I can't cope with that. She didn't do anything wrong. I did, I'm at fault.

"I was… I have been but… but something came up now and-"

"Then you really should go back. I'm sure young Soul will be worried if you're not there when he gets home. He has been very protective of you." Why won't he let her speak? Does he know something is wrong? Does he know I'm here? He can't, not until Maka tells him.

"Y-Yeah. He is…" Why was she drifting off? Maybe she was thinking of Soul, remembering all the times he saved her, all the moments they spent together… All her memories of me are sad and painful. No wonder she cares about him so much. I'm nothing compared to him, just a dumb shy guy who dresses like a girl. There's no way she could feel anything for me like she does Soul… Brave, wise, cool, confident Soul… wait… why are they talking about soul? Why am I thinking about him? How did this turn from a talk with Lord Death to a discussion about the white haired scythe?

Wait… Lord Death is avoiding Maka's topic…

"M-Maka…" I whispered her name so low I barely heard it. There is no way she could have. I need to get her attention though, I need her to tell Death. I can't, I wouldn't know how to deal with it. But she would, she does, she always does. With nervous trepidation, I give a slight pull on her hand. Her face shakes itself from her memories as she looks at me, giving me a look as if she forgot I was there. Maybe she did… I'm easy to forget. Who would want to remember pale cursed me when they can have the friends that Maka does? Courageous, strong, brave… their all things I can never be… all things her friends have… of course she would forget me… who would want to remember me?

Her hands is squeezing mine. Maybe she feels bad she forget me. She shouldn't though. Everyone _should_ forget me. It would be easier, wouldn't it? Even though… Even though I would be alone… Maka would be happy though. She needed to be happy, that was all that mattered. Maybe she should just-

"Lord Death!" I jump at her scream, really leaving the floor as she says his name. I imagine that Shinigami has as well. "I have something _urgent_ to report!"

"What?" I hear him ask. But Maka isn't saying anything else. There's a pull on my arm instead. Why would she pull on me? Does she want me to talk to Lord Death? I couldn't deal with that! But… but then why is she pulling me?

Oh no…

I close my eyes as she pulls me beside her, leaving me to curl into her in fear. I can't see Lord Death, not like this! He hated me before, he'll kill me now! Slice me into bits, shoot me full of wholes, smash me into little itty bitty bits! He'll slaughter me! I know it! He can't know it's me, he can't! He hated me when I was my mother's child, he hated me when I betrayed Mrs. Marie, now I'm a monster! He'll kill me as soon as he sees me! I know it! Why Maka? Why did you-

"C-Chrona." Though I still refuse to open my eyes, I find myself no longer shaking against Maka. Instead, I'm frozen. Terrified, mortified, worried, anxious, fearful, horrendously scared… I have never heard Lord Death speak in such a shocked voice. Not even when her learned how I p-p-poisoned Mrs. Marie did he give more than a tilt of the head and curious coo. Now… now he stuttered when he merely spoke my name. Did he know I was a monster already? Of course he did, he was just wondering how to kill me. Slice off my head, tear out my heart, devour my soul, he's just thinking how best to kill a monster like me. An abomination of all life, that's all I am now.

"Chrona?" It's… it's Maka talking to me. Her hand is against my face, so warm and so soft. I'm leaning on it before I even think against it. But I don't think against it. I want to be near Maka like this… but at the same time… not like this at all.

"It is Chrona then…" I hear him move through the mirror, no longer existing outside our plane of life. I don't dare look, for so many reasons, but I know he is there. The dark ominous figure of Life and Death incarnate. Judging me like a piece of meat, ready to decide how I should be disposed of. Would he dismantle me, let that odd Dr. Stein dissect me until I was nothing my strands of muscle and drops of blood? I couldn't deal with that. I wouldn't know how to being deal with that! I'm just going to hold Maka. I'll hold her as tight as she'll allow. She won't betray me. She won't hurt me. Please don't him hurt me Maka…

"It's okay Chrona." I hear her voice before I feel her hand. It's just as it was before. Soft, gentle, caressing, laying gently against the skin of my face. It's… It's so calming… She wouldn't hurt me, she wouldn't betray me. No… If she says it's okay, then I know it is. My eyes blink open slowly, cautiously. I know Lord Death is right by my, eyeing me through his mask, judging every thing that I do. I… I don't know what to do… but Maka said it would be okay… It will okay. My body moves away from Maka, but I don't let go of her hand. That's the only thing that's keeping me here. If I let go of that, I'll be gone again. She is the only reason I'm going to stay here.

"Chrona." The Shinigami says to me. He's being serious. Too serious. How do I deal with Lord Death when he's that serious? "Can you please…" He trails off as he speaks, raising one of his massive white gloves to his mask. His finger presses on one of his three spikes, pushing on it as if in thought. Maybe he is, probably is, but why? Does he think I'm a monster? Of course he does… I was… I was dead… but… but maybe he thinks it was an accident, maybe he thinks it was all a fluke. That could happen, right? My question is answered as he snaps his fingers, back straightening so fast, I can't help myself but to lean towards Maka, ready to hide behind her.

"Can you please smile?"

Oh…

I feel Maka's hand tighten around my own. She knew what this meant, as I do.

This… this could be the end but… but Lord Death could… understand… right? Right? No, probably not.

But what if I don't show him, what if I hide.

Than they'll hurt Maka. They'll hurt her for being near me, for taking care of me, for helping me, for doing everything for me. I… I can't let that happen. Maka doesn't deserve any of that, she… I should be hurt before she is. So this is right. I'll show him, and I'll tell him, exactly what I am.

Pulling back my lips, I show Lord Death, the Shinigami, the Master of Life, Death, and all souls between, just what I have become. A Master of myself. A creature of the night. A monster to everyone, and a threat to everything.

"Lord Death, I am a Vampire."

* * *

**(1)** Don't know where this came from, but I think it's a synonym for hell in the Soul Eater verse. Just came to me, cause they sure as hell don't have any real religion. I mean, they all think Lord Death is God, at least in the English translations I've read…


	7. Chapter 7: Unveiling

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long to come out, but I'm having hell at college, and my writing block can probably rival the Great Wall at this point. Well I'm happy, I'm really happy. Bosbabe has made for this story what I thought I would never have. FAN ART! Getting fan art for a fan fiction is something I never seriously thought would happen, and for it to, I'm pumped! You can find it at the address below.

http:/ .com/favourites/8911743#/d3e1t9l

Don't forget to remove the space between the http:/ and the address itself.

But she did bring up a good point, one I hope to address properly in the story below regarding Chrona and the fate of his soul. Most of the vampire mythos are going to be revealed, and I assure you, as a man who has spent college credits researching the history and mythos of vampires, these are all accurate to a fault.

ENJOY!

* * *

I stare down at the boy before, my gaze harder than the stone mask I wear. For every thought that goes through my head, I hide the emotion that is carried with it. The scowl I wish form on the stone, curving the sharp edges of my mask into a hideous nightmarish face is brought by nothing short of pure fury. The grab and pull of shock that no doubt could very well reveal my face pull at the edges of my mask, attempting to makes the dark holes that serve as my eyes wider than they should ever need to be is forced upon me by the blunt shock of his statement. A heavy force pulls on my entire mask itself, willing it almost to fall to the floor in unbounded and unmerciful sorrow. Though I had suspected this event the moment he was lost in my school, it does no good to me to see him like this now.

He's faking his bravery to me for the sake of Maka. I've been alive and fighting for far too long to miss the signs of terror. Hands shaking while clenched, grabbing another's hand with enough force to crack it, eyes, though red and bloody, shaking in their sockets. He's terrified of me, of what I can do, of what he thinks I will do. The problem is, not even I know what I will do.

They were all supposed to be gone.

"Chrona," I say his name without a shred of sarcasm. He straightens himself taller than before, mouth giving a slight quiver as his name rolls tongue. "Maka," the blonde meister gives her own quick look of shock and surprise, a slight jump that bounces her tails, and her own hand gripping Chrona's harder. These two know the severity of the situation. Good. It will make it easier going on. But… but why explain it twice?

"Wait here for the night." Their looks of confusion are simultaneous. Both of their eyes fall in synch with their jaws, heads tilted to the side in the unconscious hope that a different angle would tell them what I'm thinking. I imagine the scene would be far more comical if the situation was not so depressingly serious.

"L-Lord Death?" Chrona asks with my name. Funny, that he is brave enough to speak before Maka.

"I think it would best if we waited for everyone else to get here, wouldn't you say?" Now their expressions begin to differ. Maka's lips curl into a small smile of understanding, relief that the small mystery I had created was revealed, and her muscles relaxed with the news. Her shoulders fall slightly with a sigh that mimics her feeling. The free hand, her right hand, places itself over the center of her chest, just above her heart, the conduit of her soul. Chrona does none of that. His eyes grow wider than the first moment I met him, so far that I do believe the bone of his skull widens with it. Muscles shaking, knees quaking, I watch him process what I said. His mouth, which was just only slightly agape, now hangs open unintentionally flaunting the fangs he hid with shame. The white of his now red eyes begin to outline themselves with the unmistakable crimson of blood, no doubt his tears collecting on the edges of his vision. I've seen this reaction in many more people than just Chrona alone. It's a panic attack in its purest form.

"Chrona?" Maka questions as she notices the shaking hand she holds. Her concerned green eyes look at him with nothing but heartwarming concern. It's the look I see Tsubaki give the enigmatic Black Star whenever his antics become just a bit too much, or the same emotion Soul offers Maka whenever her own life it threatened. Complete and total dedication to the other, a beautiful thing, but tragically placed. Even as he hands rises to touch his face, he does little to acknowledge, besides a slight twitch as it contacted his pale flesh.

"C-Chrona?" Now Maka is hurting from it, and I don't need to think long to know what comes next. She'll turn to me, think I terrified him without cause, and like any soulmate does to another, protect him even from Death, from me. It is such a beautiful thing, I only wish Chrona still had a soul. But like predicting the time of day when a clock is in your hand, Maka moves just as I know she would. Green eyes stare defiantly at me, an action I think would normally be forbidden in her mind. One hand still grips the new born vampire's as the other holds his face in mid-caress. Without realizing it herself, she has moved herself in front of him, her body turned so she faces more of him than me. Her furious gaze is set upon me over her shoulder, like a lioness protecting her cub. It's all so needless.

I raise my hand for nothing more than an open palm a gesture that Chrona's state has nothing to do with the few words I have said, but I may as well have raised a scythe above my head. Maka moves Chrona into a hug of sorts, pulling the vamp… the frightened child to her, protecting him with her own body. Still, her eyes stare at me rebelliously with a mother cub's fury. The pink haired mon…meister does little more than curl in on Maka's protective embrace, his arms wrapping around her torso as his head buries itself into the nape of her neck. That is a very dangerous position.

"Now now." I begin with a wave of my hand, curling and uncurling the massive digits. "I'm not threatening you in the slightest." Her gaze softens, but she still does not move, neither does Chrona.

"Then why is Chrona so terrified?" Maka asks sincerely, and I find it just another bittersweet moment in this most… confusing time.

"If I had to guess." I begin, hand once more hidden, and back turned to the two. "I'd say he's more terrified of your friends seeing him like this than anything else. After all… they do all think he is dead." From my mirror, I watch Maka process what I say. Her eyes become far less feral, and far more sympathetic as they turn to the young meister in her arms. She only looks down at his pink hair, eyes hidden from both her and me as they sit against the skin of her neck. I still find that every position dangerous.

"Is that true Chrona?" Her voice asks with all the serenity I do believe partners share. How odd that it comes from two meisters, and not from weapon and meister themselves. But more than that, I find myself relating it to the stress and depression both had endured. That was all it was, the horrific emotions of the circumstance they find themselves playing with actions and feelings they both have. I can't find it in myself to blame them for it. Even as my hidden eyes watch Chrona shake and nod into the motherly form of Maka, I find myself unable to place any blame on the either of them. Neither chose this path, and I'm sure both wished to avoid it. But by the force of fate, and the pull of Loss, the situation as risen, and now it must be dealt with.

"It's okay Chrona. It… It'll be alright." I don't think Chrona missed the break in her voice. I certainly didn't.

"N-N-No…" The mutter comes from Maka's neck, his head shaking left to right, rubbing across the black trench coat she so enjoys to adorn. "I-I-It won't b-be alr-right." He pulls her closer to him, hugging her with gentle strength. She makes no move to break from him. If anything, she holds him tighter.

"They'll… they'll ha-a-ate me, hurt m-m-me. I c-c-couldn't deal w-w-with that!" From the dark spots growing on Maka's coat, I can only guess that the young vam… young man is crying. Once again, I find it impossible to set blame on him. Just as I found only misery in the eyes of my son as I lied to him, I can think of something similar flowing through Chrona's mind as he tells them the truth of his curse. It would be bitter, painful, and mortifying.

"It has to be done Chrona." Though the mirror shows Maka turn to me, Chrona does little more than shift further into Maka's embrace. "There will be no way to hide this, and believe me, they've all done more than their share in searching for you." He shivers further into the embrace of the blonde, believing for the entire world that she can hide him forever. Blissful ideals in an ignorant world. But I can hardly contain the terror in my eyes for what I see next.

Maka rubbing her head into Chrona's hair.

She is not just nuzzling him. She is not merely comforting him. Her smile says far more than that. I have seen that gentle smile of hers far less than others, but I have seen her give it enough to know what it means. She is finding her own comfort in Chrona, her own sense of peace, her own inner sanctum. Dare I think it, I do believe she is finding her own kind of love…. But no, no. That isn't true. That can't be true. She has Soul, she has others who she shows far more affection to.

There is no way she could love a vampire.

"It's okay Chrona." I hear her whisper into his hair, shameless to my presence. "I won't let them hurt. I won't ever let anyone hurt you again."

I do all I can to ignore her words.

{\*/}

The three waited in the Home of Death.

Death had returned to his mirror, calling the most treasured members of Shibusen to his room. The cool demeanor that so many pictured with the master of life was given more credit during his summoning of the meisters and weapons than in any other time before. He allowed no questions from the distraught Stein and Marie, listened to no barks from the enigmatic Black Star, offered no signs to the wise and thoughtful Soul, and gave no answers to his own confused and distraught son. He played the role of leader and master better at that moment than at nearly any other before. Because this took more than simply a show of great power in the face of a greater enemy, took more than a display of strength before an enemy common to all. Death showed the very essence of his soul as he made the demands for appearance. He showed what a leader was through the strength of words and will.

All the while, Maka unabashedly held the trembling vampire to herself, whispering honest promises and heartfelt worlds of comfort. They both sat behind the mirror of Death's chambers, hidden from the path leading to the world outside, a world neither wished to admit existence to. Not once did she pay mind to the small amount of blood that dripped from her beloved friend's eyes, caring even less for the small amount that stained her clothes. The scythe meister let her fingers roam the pink locks of once called black blood master, letting her touch linger along the scalp with every pass she made. It was an act she performed thoughtlessly, knowing on a level immeasurable the good the it did to both of them.

Chrona only did more of what he had always done, from his life before, to his death, and the beginning of his cursed life again. He cried, whimpered, and found refuge in the only soul to ever offer it to him. With more misery than any being could justly deserve, he clung to Maka's black and near dripping red cloak. As she so easily comforted him, he so easily found comfort with her. He took the imaginings of her compassion as the exchange between lovers, dwelling in his secret behind her comforting eyes. For ever pass her hand made through his hair, he thought it her way of lulling him to sleep. For every word of comfort she whispered, he imagined them the sweet nothings he so desired to say to her. In a rare act that any would be dumbstruck to see, Chrona thought nothing of coping or dealing with the situation. He found pleasure in the act, and ignored all else around him. To him, Maka was all that mattered, all that really existed.

He stopped his dreaming as soon as heard Death's mighty doors shut.

With a soft gasp, he huddled further into Maka's inviting embrace, pulling on the edges of her cloak as if willing it to surrounding him, hide him the dark material like a shadow. Maka, herself, had abandoned the comforting strokes across Chrona's hair, instead now embracing him with the same unspoken fear he had. The Lord of Life and Death did nothing more than he had already, waiting patiently in front of his mirror, leaving the two meisters hidden and silent from all who entered.

The first to appear down the guillotined path was the blonde death scythe Marie. Her one visible eye was swollen and red, bags hanging under the lids, each a night that she spent awake searching for the young pink haired youth. Her child-like demeanor was no where to be seen, replaced instead by an individual who had been shattered by the cruel hands of fate. Her shoulders were slumped, and normally well cared for hair strewn across her face with still drying tear tracks marring her face. Soon behind her was the man she both called meister and lover, Dr. Frank N. Stein. His appearance was little different than the last time the Lord of Shibusen had seen him. An unsettling calm across his features, cigar burning within his mouth, and hand hidden within his coat pockets. He offered no words of greeting or even mutterings of curse for distracting him from his goal. He simply approached the steps with Marie, stopping just before the first, and stood stock-still.

Soul followed soon after the two professors. His façade was much more defined and kept then either of his seniors. In appearance, he looked no different than the bored kid who played cool as he did every day at school. Hands hidden, teeth shown only enough to offer the jagged edges, eyes half open to offer their red gaze, and hair spiked in a manner no different than any other time before. But the tiny things were what gave his true emotions away, and they were the things Death had learned long ago to watch and read. His gaze fell on the meister and fellow weapon first, hovering over them even as he walked, a mix of confusion and curiosity giving a slight flicker across his irises. The stride in his legs was shorter by a good half foot next to normal, hesitance clear as day. Though it was faint, even the agitation in his hands was visible to the Death God, the fabric of his jacket moving and stretching with constant motions within. He was worried about something, either the meeting here or Maka back at the apartment. It was impossible to tell, but either way, it showed his collect state was what it was. A façade.

Soon following the lone Scythe came an unexpected group of four. Sid and Nygus carrying a thrashing Black Star, followed by a mute Tsubaki. The blue zombie of a man held the anything-but-silent Black Star by his collar, far beyond used and far beyond caring for his antics. Not one punch, kick, or brutal push delivered by the ninja even move the zombie as he continued his march to the Shinigami's steps. When they were within distance, Black Star was dropped unceremoniously on the ground as both zombie and mummy gave their respectful bows to the Death God they served. Tsubaki followed suit, not even caring to move the hair that fell onto her face as she did. She appeared so dead in form that even the Lord Death himself thought it possible, given away only by the slight breaths of air she made. Nygus seemed the most collect out of the four, but then again, it was impossible to read any wrapped in bandages from head to toe. Only her eyes could be seen, but even then, they were no different than the cold blue orbs she gave friend an foe alike. Sid served no other purpose than the outlet for the young Black Star's childish fury, mutely facing their leader as the kid yelled and screamed at him from below his chest line. The words were nothing more than a broken dog's bark, angry with anyone who did anything more than give him a wrong look.

But as Black Star fired his mouth and the rest stood mute and apathetic to his words, the last of the company arrived. Liz, Patti, and Death the Kid made their way into the great room. The oddity of their arrival was apparent to more than just the detailed Lord of Death, as it would be to any who knew the young Shinigami. Patti and Liz did not follow him, he followed them. He visibly trailed more to Liz than Patti, giving no symmetry to his entrance. One hand was kept in his pocket as the other swayed as he walked. His face was tear stained, eyes drooping, hair unkempt, and clothes unpressed. He was a mess in the simplest most basic use for the word, and the Thompson Twins did little to help. The usually enigmatic Patti, for once, clung to her older sister, unable to find any kind of joy in the situation they were stuck within. The elder blonde made no move to shack her.

As all members of the Kishin Squad arrived in Death's chambers, they stood amongst themselves before the steps to Lord Death's mirror, questioning one another, either oblivious or uncaring to the Lord they served. The topic they all circled around was more plain than an unpainted wall. Where had they all been? Did any of them find anything? Had it really been a week since Chrona's passing, and only a day since his disappearance? Did Lord Death have any information for them?

Had Chrona been found?

{\*/}

"'Ello!" I greeting excitedly. I had to. If they came in expecting something bad, or me telling them something worse, now of all times, one of them very well may lose it, if one could argue they hadn't already. Even if just for now, I have to wear my guise. Thought it's more plain than my son's attire how little good it does. Not one of the Shibusen members answers my greeting.

"Good to see you all today! I know you're all dying to see what I have for you~u." Maybe a bit too sing song for this, but I need them to feel something. If it was pure apathy they held coming in, and only expecting rules and regulations from my mouth, then they'll only assume the thing I have to show as false, a lie, or worse, worth killing. If they can feel even anger towards me, then they'll be able to believe the impossible as well. A purely factual person would deny the horrid truth I'm about to show.

"Please father just… just show us…" I can feel a pull at my heart when my son's broken voice makes the request. It's so different to how he usually sounds… so confident, so powerful, so sure… Now he sounds broken, as if he's given up on the world. Maybe he has. It was hard on me to watch my companions of old die and wither to dust while I marched fearlessly into time. Now he knows of the fate that will meet him, and at an age far younger than I did. Just one more thing I blame on the incarnation of Loss.

"Now now son, you need to learn to be patient."

"I'm with Kid on this one." Black Star spoke to me. For all the rash boastful comments he had ever made, not once had the young ninja ever been out spoken to me, filling his voice with nothing but disdain. "We're out there searching for Chrona and you call us back for a greeting? Seriously, just get on with it!" I was not prepared for that. Even if I expected him to be a bit more brash, I didn't expect him to make a demand out of me so boldly. I guess it's easy to say how his grief is being dealt with. But before I offer my rebuttal, a sound stops my voice, and freezes all those present.

A whimper from behind the mirror.

I know what it is, I know who it is, but no one else but me does. I see the faces that once were full of pain, disdain, and even hints of rage now turn into something new. Confusion, wonder, and in one soul's case, shock. Marie, the secretly wise demon hammer, had her hands to her mouth with eye wide and tense. Fresh tears collected at the edges of her lid as her mind connected the faint dots I had given her. Legs trembling, her form fell against the mad doctor, whose arms caught her without a thought of hesitation. I sigh at the sight, apathetic to the others who looked to Marie's reaction.

"L-L-L-Lord D…Dea-a-ath?" She spoke it in a manner that reminds me of Chrona. So hesitant, so… fearful, afraid that she learn a truth that will crush her hope, or answers her prayer with a wicked twist. That her wish would be granted with a menacing curse. I wish I could call her fears needless, but I would have them too. I only wish I could quell their fears, but now anything I say would only stir more doubt and anger, more so than what I wished. As so many men have said before me, it's either now or never.

"You can come out now." I spoke the command in as gentle a voice I could, knowing the fear that would plague Chrona, and likely Maka. Though the ruffling of clothes was audible to all behind the tall gold-rimmed mirror, no form of pink haired mo…man nor green-eyed meister showed themselves. The mutterings of the fellow members of the Kishin squad behind me was lost to my thoughts.

"I… I c-can't deal with this…"

"It's okay, I'm right here."

"They'll h-h-hate me. I d-d-don't w-want that."

"They won't, you know they won't."

Their hushed conversation was heard by all, and I do say that their faces catch me between sorrow and laughter, the oddest of all conflicts. Some like Tsubaki have tears marring their once emotionless faces, lining the cracks of their apathetic masks, muscles shaking and minds spinning, they can't do much else other than listen with mute horror and fascination. Others like Stein are stiff in shock, fists clenched in the rage of their confusion, and eyes open as wide as they can to see what they think they're missing. Then there's my son, whose face is modeled as, if I can dare think the word in this situation, relief.

"C'mon Chrona, I'll go with you."

"B-B-But then they m-m-might hate you t-too."

"It doesn't matter, now c'mon. We can't hide forever."

"But… But maybe I can."

"I'll be with, I promise."

"Oh…Okay…"

I turn my head to watch their entrance, more entranced by how the young man will attempt to show himself than by the expressions my longtime allies and friends are making. Shadows dance behind the mirror's frame, twirling at one another as the two hidden figures move. It stills for a moment, no doubt from Chrona's fear, a fear I find well justified. But then it moves, grows, darkens, as the two figures begin to emerge from behind my threshold of existence.

The first to appear, to no surprise of me, is the young blonde, whose bravery was able to send a Kishin to his final rest. Her black coat hides the Chrona's tears well, it would take a close look to see the red splotches across the attire, but right now, no one is looking for details. It makes sense more than anything else that she would be the first to meet the stares of shock and awe. Her companion would be able to stand none of them, as is proven to me the moment he emerges from behind her. Though the skin of his hands is just visible above the young girl's shoulders, it isn't until he moves his head from beyond Maka's back that everything falls into place.

"I… I can't believe this…" It was never a common sight to see Marie so broken as she was now. Her face, normally jovial and serene, caught between shock and misery. Her jaw open and whimpering, single eye tearing at the sight. I watch her among the others as her arms instinctively reached out. Not far, not a like a drowning man searching for a line, but enough to know she both wished and doubted what she saw. But the fear I knew would exist held her back, as it does everyone else in present in my domain.

How could they not be? They had never seen a vampire before.

Emotions that I dared to think were long gone from these, my most trusted allies, begin to show. But for all the good I see, the fear I know to be rightfully placed still exists. My own son had taken a step back, unintentional or otherwise. His bright golden eyes wide in shock, confusion, and maybe even a spark of panic. His fingers flexing and laxing in rhythm to his thoughts, pondering whether to run, to shoot, or to do anything at all. But beneath all those emotions that are brighter than the sun's glow, I see a hint of joy cross his cat-slit eyes. As I see the faintest hint of that most precious of feeling cross him, I, myself, feel a _wave_ of relief cross over me.

Tsubaki, the once so stoic Tsubaki, now shows here feelings on her sleeve. Gone is the mask she wore so well for the past week of torment, now in its place are the tear tracks. Her hands fold over her face, covering her mouth and nose she sucks in and coughs out fistfuls of air. I cannot see through her, so I cannot say for certain, but I dare to think, maybe even say, that she is smiling beneath those petite hands of hers. The way her muscles pull beneath her stained eyes, pull not clench, tells me that she is overjoyed to see her friend before her.

Each and every one of them those mix of emotions about them. Horror, laughter, curiosity, shock, joy, sorrow. Leave it to the child of a witch and bearer of a curse to bring every emotion on Earth into my domain.

"C…C-Chrona?" It was Stein who spoke the boy's name is such a dejected state. I had never seen before as he looks now. He had gone manic before, letting his grin turn wicked with the thoughts of misery and blood, letting his body destroy and mutilate for some perverse idea of science. I had seen him happy, with a slight grin to his features and cigarette held in place by his teeth, his gray eyes looked to each and every one of his students and friends as precious. I had seen him angry, fists as white as his hair and eyes narrowed to a near slit degree, he showed no mercy on even the most hesitant and remorseful enemy. But now, he shows devastation, and to a degree that I think not even he thought himself capable of dealing with. His mouth was open, enough to show his shock, enough to show his disbelief. Gray eyes were wide in confusion, caught in doubt. It was an impossible thing to see, and impossible thing to accept, but here it stands, challenging everything the doctor had come to accept. It is-

He's moving towards them.

It takes me moment to realize it, but the famed meister is marching towards the two. His jaw set in a tight line, opposite of what it was just seconds ago. His jacket sways in his trail, eyes set on the obvious two. Maka returns his hard gaze with one that shows the bravery she so righteously wields. Her right travels across her chest, reaching towards the pale flesh that sits on her black clothed shoulder. Her digits close over the, what I can imagine, cold flesh with tenderness that betrays her gaze. Though the doctor is stronger than her, she holds her ground with admirable determination. Chrona does not.

He was already terrified of merely seeing his friends, terrified of me. It was only by the coaxing of blonde Scythe meister that he was able to show himself to me, and hours of preparation to do so to the others. But to see what I can only guess be his fear marching towards him, the face of someone he at least trusted looking at him with eyes of anger, his cowardice is justified. His head was quickly hidden behind the petite form of his dear friend, only the hands he clenched to her with visible to us all. He wouldn't let go of her, that much I know the other could tell.

When Stein was just before, just beside me, he stopped. His eyes looked down at the blonde, unreadable beyond the unmistakable fury the held. What was he planning? What did he hope to accomplish? Dr. Stein was never a man who acted before he thought, he merely thought the worst of ideas before he acted, but it was clear to me know that he had no such process. He had marched before he thought of it, stopping only when he realized it. Now, he was wondering what to do. I myself am far too curious to act against Stein's hidden intentions. But… I have faith he will not doing anything rash. He saved both Maka's and Chrona's life before, I doubt he would so easily harm them now.

"Move." He spoke it in the tone that preceded a storm. Barely contained and obviously a warning of sorts. Yet the blonde holds her ground with surprising strength.

"Why?"

"Move Maka."

"Why?" I can't tell yet if she is repeating herself for a point, or to intentionally annoy the master meister.

"Maka… move aside now." I hear his fists clench. This may be my time to intervene.

"S-Stein." It's Marie's broken voice that calls his name, her single eye still red and strained from the sleepless nights and shocking revelation. She had begun to move towards him after he spoke his first command. Now she was just behind him, arm raised to the doctor's shoulder.

"I'm not going to hurt him."

"Then what is it you want?" Once again, Maka continues to impress me, saying such demanding words to a man that could easily kill her before I brush him aside. However, with Marie nearby, I'm sure I can let this scene play out. I move myself away from the group, allowing no misunderstandings that I had taken a side.

"Move Maka, or I'll move you." Not even Marie's presence was having an impact on the doctor's behavior. Maybe I should step in after all. But still the courageous held her ground, unflinching beneath the near murderous gaze of the doctor. I see her lips move, ready to again ask why or command him to leave. It is not a wise decision, that I know but still she opens her lips to do so. But before the air can pass her lungs, another voice stops her.

"M-Move Maka."

It takes even me a moment to realize who truly said those words. It was not Stein, moments away from snapping. Not Marie, taking her beloved's side as a lover would, not even I, worried that I fight would begin within my domains against my wishes. It was the young vampire, and he was rising.

Hands still on Maka's shoulders, he begins to stand tall behind her. Pink locks of hair become visible to all as he moves from behind her. His blood red eyes, staring with equal defiance into the grey orbs of the white haired doctor, whose eyes had yet to lose their burn. Chrona's jaw is set, teeth clenched behind his pale flesh and lips. I see his hands are barely keeping his strength in control. Too hard of a grip, and he would easily snap the bones of Maka's shoulder like a twig. Still, I see him move her, pushing her as gently as he can away from him, beside him. Where did this bravery of his come? As if answer to my question, he takes an action that all but confirms my thoughts.

He glances at the young girl.

That's why. Because his precious friend was threatened. Bravo Chrona, Bravo.

"Chrona." The manic doctor speaks the name. Though his face remains unchanged, his tone sounds just as dumbstruck with disbelief as he was the moment Chrona and Maka showed themselves. His eyes though, they aren't as angry and determined as they were before. Now… they seem far more calculating, the same look he gives a threat in battle, or a delinquent in class. I can't imagine either being well placed for this situation.

The air in the room is as dead as the souls I ferry, not a one making a sound. All attention stands around the newly cursed Chrona, and the unreadable Dr. Stein. Was he planning on attacking him, calling him a monster? Though I would not be able to deny him the insult, I cannot allow violence in this most delicate of times. And just as I thought, Stein begins to take action. His arms rising from his hands extending with lethal power. His eyes remain locked to the figure before him, unaware of even Marie's hand on his cloak. Just as I am about to make my intervention, swiping away the doctor, he does what I never though him capable of.

Pulling the boy into his arms. Holding him close.

I'm stunned.

Maka's stunned.

Hell, everyone is.

Never before had Dr. Stein shown his care to anyone aside from protection in battle, or teachings at home. He had yet to share kiss, been hugged only when hugged, and cared for only when it was beyond his own means. But now here he was, embracing the young child like he was his own, careless to the curse the poor boy bared. He let his arms wrap around the dark dress, clenching against the material as he held Chrona tight. It was shocking, surprising, unfounded… and yet… I feel the compassion in waves above it.

"It is you." Just a faint whisper, that's all it was. "You're real. You're here." His head turns to face his own blonde companion, and for all the surprise I have had today, it seems that unseen line of fate thought it comical to give me just a bit more.

Stein was smiling, broader and truer than I have ever seen him do before.

"He's real Marie."

Not even a God could stop what came next.

The Demon Hammer, the compassionate Death Scythe, leapt to the two with unrestrained tears of joy, wrapping her own muscled arms around the two meisters. Her head buried itself into the pink manes of Chrona, letting her cries wet the hair as she eagerly hugged him closer. I had never seen her so sad before, and now I've never seen her so relieved. Chrona is lost between the two, but I hear his whimpers from his own relieved joy that I know he is alright, if adjusting.

Maka herself stood politely aside, closer to me now than the, what appeared to be, reunited family. I almost laugh at the thought. I know their love is genuine, the same I hold for my own son, but this is by far the last way I excepted them to come together, let alone coming together at all. I give a glance to the pig-tailed girl and am met with a please feeling. She has her own wet eyes looking on with joy and hope, knowing that all her bravery and bravado was well placed.

Even the rest of the Kishin Squad begin to show more than signs of fear and confusion. Undoubted belief now conquering their features with bright smile and blissful tears. Even the stoic white-haired scythe has a few of the wet orbs hinge on the edges of his eyes, no matter how desperately he tries to hide it. From the more boastful, I hear the deep laughs of relieved joy. Both Sid and Black Star alike, laughing as if they had just conquered a mountain's peak after a single climb. The younger of the two has fallen to the ground, a face being shown not unlike the one he gave at Asura's demise. Pure relief and unbridled joy. Tsubaki soon follow him, though onto her knees. Unlike the young ninja that is her partner, who rests on his hands, she pulls him to her, using his body as support as she watches with tears at the scene before her.

Everyone… everyone is accepting him. This… That makes this is the best possible outcome.

For now at least.


	8. Chapter 8: History

**Authors Note:** Sorry for the long delay on this one, but my finals are almost here, and all my projects are coming up on their final due date. In other words, hella busy. But… yeah, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Covers most of the past with the vampires, but with the obvious plot points left out for telling later .Can't ruin the story in one chapter, now can I?

Anyway, please read and review. And I do mean review, whenever I get a low number of reviews, it feels like I just flat out failed writing the chapter. I mean seriously, only two reviews last chapter? I was debating about writing this one!

But also, let me know if I'm doing any justice to the characters' points of view. I'm trying to make Chrona seem scared and worried, Death mournful but controlled, and Maka the mediater between the two.

* * *

They… They don't hate me. They don't fear me. They don't care about _what_ I am. How? How? Why? Why don't they hate me? They… they should, but they don't. They don't care… They don't care at all.

I bury my face into the white cloak of Dr. Stein, a man who just recently terrified threatened Maka and I, but now I can't think of a reason to let go of him. Grabbing at the loose material that wraps around his body, I hold myself to him with all the same force I did my angel. I'm crying, sobbing, mourning, thanking, praising, and weeping into him, careless of the blood that I let seep into his pure white clothes. He's willing to accept me despite this, despite me, despite all that I am. It's so close to what Maka had done for me, and now someone else, someone entirely new, was offering it to me as well. Crying is the only thing I can do.

Mrs. Marie puts herself around me, I can tell, I know. Her deceptively strong arms wrapping around me and Dr. Stein, letting her head fall onto mine. Her blonde locks are falling around me, surrounding me with her gold hair. She doesn't hate me. She doesn't fear me. Why? Why aren't they afraid of me? Why are they so quick to accept me? I don't know how to deal with this. And since I don't know how, I cling to Dr. Stein all the harder, leaning into the embrace of Mrs. Marie all the more. It feels so safe…

I don't even know they're crying, not until their tears fall into my eyes, blinding what little sight I have within Dr. Stein's cloak. Their both trembling against me, their sobs muffled in my hair and dress. Are they sad? Are they worried? Are they scared? If they are, it's because of me. I'm making them feel this way, just by being here, just by showing myself. Why? Why am I making them feel so bad? I don't wont Mrs. Marie to be hurt, not by me, not again. It was horrible the first time, a choice that eats at me like Me- my mother's snakes. Tearing at what little pride I had, eating it away at my dignity with its corrosive form. I won't feel that again, I won't. I _**won't**_.

"I'm s-s-sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I keep speaking the mantra with all my still heart. I can't let them cry. I can't let them feel bad. Not because of me, never again because of me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Every time I say the word, I feel them hold me just a little bit tighter, just a little bit stronger. Why? Are they really afraid of me?

No.

No. No.

No. No. No. Please no. I can't let them be mad. Don't be mad. Don't hate me. Not now, not after Maka promised she'd take care of me. Not after I summoned up the courage to show you what I am. No, please no. I don't want to be hated. I don't want to be alone.

"Chrona…" Is that Mrs. Marie? Why is she saying my name like that? So sad, so mournful, so tender, so broken. Is it because of me? Did I hurt her again? But I don't want to hurt her again! Please, please don't let me hurt her again. I'm crying over it, I can hear myself hiccup as the blood flows out of my eyes. My tears are staining Dr. Stein's cloak red, and I don't think he cares. Not the way he's holding me so close to him, regardless to the pain I'm causing them. Why is he so careless about that? Should he be trying to kill me for it? Will he try and kill me? Maybe… Maybe this is just a trap, a last bit of comfort before he cuts me down. It's possible, it's very possible. I should let go, I should run. I can still run. Maka will follow me, or maybe… she'll at least try and help me. I should, I can, I will!

"Y-you're… alive. Thank God you alive!"

That's… that's still Mrs. Marie… Is she really that happy for me? Not afraid, not fearful, not sad, but happy? She's happy I'm alive? Why? What… How could she… It doesn't make any sense… I don't know how to deal with this! Not at all! They should be afraid of me, they should be trying to kill me. I saw how Lord Death looked at me, I saw how he wanted to kill me, so why don't they? Why is Mrs. Marie so happy? Why is Dr. Stein so kind? It doesn't make sense. But I can't… stop myself… I'm holding them harder, afraid of seeing their faces. What they're saying… what they're doing, I could be imagining it, it being nothing more than my lost hope in this cursed life of mine. That would make sense, that would be something… something I could deal with…

It takes me a moment to realize, but I'm being pulled from Dr. Stein, my face being moved from his cloak, and being bared once again to Lord Death's domain. I look over at who did it, who's taking me away from the little comfort I'm able to find, and see that it is none other than the one who offered it to me, Mrs. Marie. Why was she trying to take me from Dr. Stein, why did she stop holding me? Did she want me to let go of him, did she want me to stay away? Maybe they really do hate me, maybe they're just showing a little mercy, a little kindness, before they kill me again. She's going to push me away, throw me to the floor, and crush me, crush what little of me I can still call alive. Why else would she be doing this? Seeing my face one last time before… before… be…

Why is she kissing me?

Her lips are… just on my forehead… shamelessly showing affection to me… to _ME_… a monster, a demon… and she's kissing me so easily. Such… affection, such… kindness… It's… It's almost as if she does care… like she really is glad… that I'm alive. Kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my… eyes… my lips… Does she really not care? Does she really care so little about… what I am?

"W-Why?" The words come out as a whimper between my lips, through my fanged teeth. Mrs. Marie looks at me, down from her height, with a smile that is not unlike my angel's. So kind, gentle, innocent, heartfelt, honest, pure, warm. I love that smile, I love what that smile means. I know what it means. It took me forever to find out, but now I know, and I'm so happy whenever I see it, so… excited. I'm smiling now, I know I'm smiling. I don't care that my fangs show, I don't that my red eyes are gleeful. Mrs. Marie is giving me the same smile as my angel, and that's all I care about. But what will she say? What will she do? Praise me, thank me, accept me?

"Because I love you Chrona, like my own son."

I was right. It's perfect.

I grab hold of her black dress as she wraps her arms around my own, pulling my head beneath her chin. I'm not crying, not with tears, but I'm still sniffling, still coping, but happy, joyful, glad. Maka was right, just like I knew she would be. She's always right, and I've never been happier for it. I'm at peace, the same kind of peace Maka promised me, just like my angel promised me.

LUB-DUB LUB-DUB

Mrs. Marie's heart is so mesmerizing. It beats like soft drum in my ears, calming me, lulling me, calling me… I can't get enough of it. It's so easy to deal with. Predictable, simple, small, elegant, and quiet. I can't imagine a better sound…

"My Lord Death." I hear Dr. Stein speak, though his voice is muffled through the fabric of Mrs. Marie's dress. I don't care though, nothing he says or asks can be better than the sound of this heartbeat. "Can you please explain how this happened?"

"I suppose this is my fault again." He said that so easily. Does it even matter to him? How can he deal with this so easily? "Like the Kishin before this, I had thought the threat of the vampires was gone to time." He lets out a sigh as his massive fingers pinch the front of his mask. I barely see it out of the corner of my eye.

"Never have I been so sorry for being wrong before." Maybe he really does care…

"Lord Death?" It's Mr. Sid who said his name. I can see him just down the steps by Black Star's side. I can never tell what he's thinking… I don't know how to deal with that. I just hold Mrs. Marie closer, pushing my head further into her chest, letting her heartbeat lull me peacefully.

LUB-DUB LUB-DUB

"Come around everyone," He says with a wave of his gigantic hand. "It looks as if I'm going to have a whole new history to tell. One older than anything who've hear or read." Is he serious? Talking about something so old as if it's so recent? Making story time out of the situation? I wouldn't know how to deal with this, not if I was away from Mrs. Marie's mesmerizing heartbeat. I don't have to care about anything while I hear it.

LUB-DUB LUB-DUB

"Let's go Chrona." I hear her whisper into my ear. Her hand gently pats the back of my head as speaks it though, holding me close as if I really were her child as if… as if she wasn't my real mother. Mrs. Marie would make such a great mother. She's so kind, so accepting, so great. I don't have to care about anything when she takes care of me, helping me. And with her heartbeat, I wouldn't have to worry about almost anything at all.

LUB-DUB LUB-

She pulls me away from her, and I feel myself fall. But she doesn't let me go, no, she's guiding me, holding my hand. Tough all we're doing is turning. Lord Death is still standing near us, he's just beside his mirror. Everyone else, all my… I don't know how to deal with calling them this… all my friends are coming up the steps, each one giving me their own look. They were… were all happy. They were all happy to see me. Everyone of them. Black Star, Tsubaki, Patti, Liz, Soul, Kid, Sid, Nygus. They were all happy to see me! This can't be a dream now… no, I won't let it. Not when they're all… all smiling at me… so despite my eyes, my face, my fangs… despite what I am now… It's amazing, perfect even. All so perfect. Despite me being here, despite what I am, it's all still so perfect.

It doesn't take long, but we are all surrounding Death's mirror, all of us, looking at the spirit of the end and his personal portal to the world. I do not see what is so exciting, I don't understand what he wants us for. Is he going to tell us about what happened, why it's all his fault, why I'm this way? I… I don't really care… I just want to hear more of Mrs. Marie's heart. It's so relaxing… so peaceful. It's so much better than this. But… but if her heart is so amazing, then what about my angel's? About Maka's? Would it be even better? More calming, more peaceful, more soothing, more reassuring, more comforting? I wouldn't know how to deal with something like that! But… but I want to… I want to try…

"Where to begin?" That alone grabs my attention. Lord Death has one of his large hands behind his head, rubbing it as if unsure of what to say. Does he know what to say? Why can't he just say it? Is it really hard to think of an answer to a question? But what was the question? How do you answer a question you don't know the answer to? I wouldn't know how to deal with that! But then… I feel it… I fell his eyes… I can't see them, but… but I feel them… Why is he looking at me?

"Let's start at the very beginning." His hand smacks the mirror, and it shows more than our reflections… everyone's but mine…

Images are swirling in the glass, colors being shown and landscapes unfamiliar. Things that… things that I've never seen before, and it doesn't make any sense? Wasn't this supposed to be his way to the world? When did it start holding memories, images, sound, picture, everything? I don't know how to deal with a thing like that… My hand is gripping Mrs. Marie's hand a bit harder, and I feel her hold mine back. She's there… I'm safe.

"Here's good." He slams the mirror again, and a jump in my skin. Not because of the noise, not because of the movement, not even because of the force Lord Death is supplying. It's because of the image on the screen, and all the horror it's showing to me. It's a man standing behind Death himself. He has a full suit of armor, and a such a plain weapon with him. A sword… a sword like the one's I'm skilled at using, but made of metal, not blood, not his own flesh… He's not scary, not really. Lord Death his in beside him, his large hands out, but in the shapes I always fear they'll take. Large claws with unimaginable strength behind them already caked in blood. He's not scary either. What's scary, what's terrifying, it where they are.

Atop a pile of bodies, rip, torn, and bled dry.

I can see each face as clear as my own hands. They are caught screaming, crying, wide eyes and open jaws stretched as far as their allowed. Final fits of panic and remorse as their lives were ended, cruelly and mercilessly. Trails of blood caught their faces no different than my own tears, _JUST_ like my own tears. But… but they all have fangs, sharper and crueler than mine. Red eyes harsher and sharper than mine, cat slit with anger and malice. Their faces are paler than mine, white enough to be mistaken for fog on an early morning. Their… their like me… and then _MORE _ than me… They're vampires…

"This was the first time I encountered them, the vampires." Lord Death spoke without his childish tone, but still eyes were kept on mirror. I can't think anyone is doing any differently than me, staring into the harsh image with freight and fear. "They attacked me at once, no more than a dozen, but strong enough to be a battalion of witches. Each had the strength of a golem, speed of a gazelle, and endurance of a mountain side." The image moves in closer, closer to Death and the man. I'm glad I can't see the bodies anymore… they look too much like me… I don't know how to deal with them… and they're already dead… again…

"The man is a proud knight, fighting for his already lost kingdom." The image gets even closer to him, almost too close for me to deal with. I can see every detail about him. His head is covered by a silver helm, but his face is open enough. A large nose and mouth, caught growling like a cornered dog. Dark brown hair edging out of the top of his head, short, but there. His face is marred with war, a face I know well. Markings from swords and small bruises from impacts are there, but the blood of his kills stands out far more than any flesh wound of his own. I can't tell if he's the fighter or the defender, and I don't know how to deal with that!

"His name is Sir Gawain of Camelot, Nephew to King Arthur, son of the witch Morgan Le Fe. Of his entire kingdom of knights, all full of honor, training, and experience that few in that day could comprehend. Even before I was needed, I found each of them someone worthy to call friend." He sighs loud enough for me to think he was blowing away a fly. "Their fortress couldn't hold for even a day against the onslaught of the undead." They… they all died? Because of the vampires? Because of the… the things like me? But… there aren't that many… Didn't Lord Death just say they were all so strong? Didn't he just say they were all strong enough to be close to him? Then… then why was it so tough? How… strong are vampires?

"Sir Gawain was on his quest for an artifact called the Holy Grail when the beings attacked Camelot. He came to the fortress's aid when I heard the cries of monsters and demons. Gawain abandoned his own quest to return home… We met each other fighting off the beasts, making our way deep into the castle's walls in search of any others." The image is slowly changing now, away from the knight, and I can't help but release a breath of air. Anything else would be better than dealing with looking at someone that close… But I'm wrong… again.

The mirrors colors turn on one another again, so fast that I almost don't know how to deal with it. But… but I have to see this. This is what I want to know, and I'll deal with it for that reason alone. I'm still gripping Mrs. Marie's hand harder though… what if I'm not able to deal with it? Will she be able to help me? Will she be able to deal with it? I hope so… I really do… I wouldn't know how to cope if she couldn't… couldn't…

I can't deal with the image.

"We found visions of hell."

I… I know it was a throne room that much was obvious. It was so large, so open, so grand, but not empty at all. Two tables were in the room, long enough to make the end obscured. Chairs were lined along both sides, each one appearing to be carefully carved by hand, having their own symbols on them. Leaves, suns, staffs, and swords, they were so simple, but each on still appeared so unique. I know the each was meant for only one person, but there were just so many. But… but I couldn't care to think long on it, because I was far too scared of what was really in the room.

More bodies than before, more dismembered than before, more horrific than before. Before… they were just cut and torn, killed quickly in the heat of battle. Maybe not mercifully, but not agonizingly. Here… I know… know from experience, know from commitment, that each one of these bodies died slowly and horribly. Their suits of armor ripped out or ripped off, entire sections missing where they were beaten like paper against a white water river. Useless, fruitless, meaningless pieces of scrap metal when faced against the… the monsters. Ribs and bones were pulled from the open sections, organs marking the room as the butchery that it was, hanging from chandeliers, sticking to the brick lain walls, caught in the fires of the few torches, marring the chairs and tabletops. But still it… it was only part of the hideous scene. The little that was left of the bodies were shown the kind of mercy that comes from hell. Half their necks were missing as if something had bitten into them, muscles hanging from the open wounds. The few faces that could be seen had their own marrings. Eyes missing with the brain cavity shown clear as day, jaws ripped clean off for a useless skull to remain, cheeks missing from others still. But… but it just kept getting worse.

"Dear father…" I look to the voice, the voice that says what I want to scream. It's Death the Kid, or Kid Death… I don't know. I don't care that I can't deal with it. At least I'm not the only one horrified, worried and scared about what I'm seeing. Even the son of Lord Death is appalled by it… so there's nothing wrong for me to hate it too…

The image just moves down further though, showing more and more of the knights destroyed and marred by the demons. Far more of the knights are dead than the vampires before. The hundreds of the hall compared to the few dozen outside, it's not a comparison at all. Neither is butchery. But… but I notice something. I don't know why, but… there is something missing. For all the bodies, the mutilation, the horror, the madness, the violence, the sickening grotesque death, there's so little blood. The walls aren't painted in it, the floor isn't drowning in it, and the chairs are barely marred with it. The bodies aren't even bleeding anymore. Why? I've… I've killed enough to know there should be blood. There should be so much for this much mutilation, but… I don't see much at all… I don't know how to deal with this…

"We found the remaining knights beyond butchered, and all the vampires that committed the atrocity gone. The few we killed outside and in the halls were all that remained. The… the Vampire Nobles, the Head Vampires, had already left, and their prize claimed." The image just kept moving as Lord Death was talking. Did he know it was still moving? Didn't he want to stop it and show us what was lost? What went missing? What did they take? I don't understand, and I can't deal with not understanding! But… but it was slowing down, the chairs moving by slower, the end of the tables becoming clearer, and the object at the end of the room becoming more and more visible. It was another chair, but… but is far different than the others. It was large, wider, taller, broader, and more unique than any of the others. Just a single item lay throne, alone without a soul around, alive or dead. It gleamed in the little light that remained in the room, and showed not a sign of battle about it. It looked as if… it was lain there almost, a sign of respect maybe… but by who? The monsters… they wouldn't do that but… but then who could? Who had the chance?

"The Vampires had successfully taken the King of Camelot, doing to him what… what was just recently done again." I could feel him looking at me again. Why was he looking at me? What did I do? Did he think I did something like those… those monsters… I… I am one of those monsters, but I wouldn't kill like that! Not again! I promised Maka I wouldn't! So… so why is he looking at me like that… why… oh…

"They turned the king into a vampire." I don't know how I said that so easily, but I did. I don't know if I'm right, but everyone looks at me regardless. Like Lord Death, I can feel them looking at me. I… I don't like it. I'm moving closer to Mrs. Marie before I realize it, and I find myself overjoyed to have her openly embrace my retreat to her. I… I don't know if they're going to hurt me… but Mrs. Marie won't… I know she won't… I hope she won't…

"Correct Chrona." Lord Death responds. I can still feel him watching me though.

"But… But why? And why haven't we heard of Camelot before? What is it?" I know it's Maka speaking, I don't need to look, but I still do. I can never mistake her voice, and I'll take every excuse to look at her. She's too perfect to ever look away from.

"I… I may have jumped a bit far ahead…" He rubs his head in slight embarrassment, or at least I think its embarrassment, I can't tell. But he quickly hides his massive hands again, where I still don't know. I can't deal well with not knowing that…

"Camelot was the kingdom of knights, a collection of the bravest men who fought against every monster of the land. Bandits, gangs, murders, kishin eggs, and even witches, they served a truly noble cause, and fought with honor and dignity. Not a one among them had ever committed a true sin against life, and everyone one of them was filled with more compassion for his fellow man than few others I've seen in history." He's not looking at me anymore… I think. "They were led by the strongest and wisest of them all, a man who was given a weapon from heaven itself. King Arthur. He alone slew dragons that threatened villages, defended the weak from cowards who fed off the strong, and even turned away the ultimate treasures for the sake of keeping the sin of greed away from the land. He was a man that I confided well with, and who confided well into me as well. Though I did not have a city then, or even one of the eight warriors by my side, he knew me well, as every man, woman, and child do."

"As… As for why, the vampires took him. It was more for his blood than his deeds." I know he's not looking at me know. He's looking to the sky and his mask… his mask is bending again. Is he sad? Maybe… Maybe it's a sad memory…

"I don't understand father, why King Arthur's blood matter so much more than any of the other knights?" It's Kid who's speaking again… Death Jr? But… but his question is good. Why does the blood matter so much? It's not like my blood is…was… Ragnarok…

"It's about the power son." Lord Death responds back. "A vampires strength comes from two things. One!" His hand appears again, finger pointing to the sky in some kind of decleration. "The older a vampire gets, the more powerful they are. Two!" His middle finger appears, and I think for a second he's giving his ironic peace symbol again. "A vampire's initial strength is based off the uniqueness of their blood." Oh… Oh… I think I understand.

"I still don't get something though." Is… is that Black Star? "Why do those… thing," I shiver, "get stronger with age, and what the hell determines unique blood?" That's definitely Black Star.

"Good question, you get a Star." I know he's smiling proud at the back handed compliment. "A vampire gets older with age because of what they do to stay old. A vampire… a vampire needs to drink blood in order to keep their youth and age." I… I do? I don't know how to deal with that! "However, our blood holds more than just simple nourishment. All of our training, our skill, our very will is kept inside that simple liquid of life. Whenever a vampire drinks of it, they gain those things. If a vampire was to drink the blood of witch, they could perform magic. If a vampire drank the blood of weapon, they could change into that weapon. If a vampire drank the blood of a Kishin… they could imitate that Kishin..." I can… I can do that too? I don't know how to deal with that… I don't know how to deal with that… Not at all…

"As for the turning someone with unique blood, I haven't any real idea of how to measure it. Simply though, Arthur was chosen by heaven to wield a blade crafted from the kingdom of the sky. That makes him pretty unique as far as anyone else goes. Like how Chr-" What? What about me? I know he was going to say my name. What was it, what was it!

"What about him, Lord Death?" That voice is so… cold… Dr. Stein? Is he defending me? "What makes Chrona so unique." He look at him from beside Mrs. Marie, and I watch the cigar in his mouth bend with the tightening of his jaw. I don't know if I should be happy or scared. I choose neither. I don't know how to deal with feeling either towards him yet… not yet… maybe later… not yet…

"Chrona…" Lord Death sighs again… I can't blame him… I would be running… "Chrona is the son of a witch. He is a sword meister with the ability to wield magic, should he choose to. Additionally, he very blood _WAS_ his weapon. He may not have been chosen by heaven, but he does have a little from both sides." They're all looking at me, I know they are. Mrs. Marie hold me tighter, and I'm glad she's still there.

"So… So what happened next, My Lord?" Mr. Sid said that. I can barely tell, but I know it's him. I… I just know.

"Moving on then." Lord Death hits the mirror again, but I don't jump, not this time. "The images start to change once more, no longer a battlefield, no longer a castle, but just an image, just one thing. The colors barely blended. It was more like… more like the image was already there, it was made clear by washing away the horror of the slaughter. I'm glad… the next image isn't so bad… It's rather… peaceful, if sad.

A graveyard. A single grave is shown larger than any other.

"Sir Gawain and I searched the lands for the next forty years looking for those beasts." His hand… it isn't hidden… it's clenched so hard…he must be angry. "We searched every cave, every castle, every dark corner that we could ever dream, read, or think about. Eventually, the young knight grew old, and his strength began to fade. It wasn't… wasn't a death on the battlefield. It was… it was very peaceful. He died knowing that he avenged his comrades, knowing that he would see them again in the world that awaits after this one. I was with him in his final moments, and I personally guided the noble soul to the next world." That… that is so sad… but good, right?

"I thought that we killed them all. I was so sure that we had killed every single one of them." He's looking at me again, looking right at me as he speaks. I know why though, I know exactly why. I'm proof. I'm all the proof he'll ever need that he was wrong, that there was just one more vampire left, just one more of those creatures left in the world for me to fall victim too. I can't believe my luck… I don't _WANT_ to deal with this…

"That's… that's it?" I don't know who spoke it, but I don't really care. I know I'm thinking it. The less I say, the better I'll be.

"That is it." He has that iron again. That voice that lets me know, lets everyone know who he is. I don't know how to deal with his hands, let alone that voice. I don't know how to deal with something that… strong….

"Stein, Sid, I still need to speak to you. Everyone else," His massive hand came forward, so fast that I feel take a step back. But he's not attacking me, not now at least, not yet. He's just giving a 'V', two of his massive fingers giving his own ironic symbol. "Peace!" I… I guess I can go… but… but I want Maka first, I need my angel, I need to be with here. And there she is, walking towards me before anyone else. Without even a comment or warning, she takes my hand in hers, smiling that smile I love with all that's left of me here and gone forever there. I can always deal with what Maka does... always.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

They did indeed leave, but not one by one. Rather, as Chrona made move to follow Maka out of the halls, the rest of the squad was quick to follow, desperate even. Not one of them wished to leave and miss even a second more of their friend, literally back from the dead after the torturous thoughts of his final departure. To see the boy, the body, they had wrecked Death City for, walking with genuine life, they could do nothing else but smile and follow, happy to see a face they called friend amongst them once again.

Marie followed close behind the group of meisters and weapons, content to watch the young boy. Seeing him smile amongst those close to him, happy with his life, no matter how cursed it may be, was something few could describe, a sort of peace of mind that she could hold dear. As she walked behind the crowd of kids, small companionship was offered by the needlessly bandaged Nygus. No words were offered between one another, only small smiles from eyes, glinting in the false sunlight. They didn't have the same emotions, perhaps not even the same thought, but they had an agreement, an understanding. They left together, each watching the children before them.

When they had departed, and only Sid, Stein, and Death himself were left in the room, their conversation began.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

"I want you two to watch Chrona, carefully." I do well to keep my back from their gaze. I cannot imagine the fury that Stein must hold, or the cold anger he is so well as displaying. I imagine even Sid has a face between curiosity and disgust. But they don't know, and I'll tell them only little by little. Too much… and it could jeopardize the peace Chrona has finally found. If nothing else, I must keep that safe.

"May I ask why, my Lord?" I was right. Disdain covers the doctor's words more than blue covers and open sky. Still can't blame him, though I do so wish I could tell him. Tell them both, maybe even them all. It would make things so much simpler now, but just so much more difficult later.

"I'm sure you saw it as well as I did Stein." I begin my response carefully. "The boy is a vampire, complete and total."

"I'm so glad we've established basics, what's next 'oh my great lord'?"

"Stein!" I hear Sid yell back with shock and warning. Never have I had a man who has served me so faithfully, in life and beyond. But again, I deserve all the anger that Stein is pushing upon me.

"It's quite alright Sid, I do deserve some anger. I'd be more shocked to have none-at-all." That's the most honesty I can give for now. Enough to show regret, but not enough to incite curiosity. Anger was preferred now, anything below being content. If Stein was satisfied with life, for whatever reason, he would become curious, and ask questions that I could not yet answer. And more curiosity is that last of what I need, from anyone, let alone the Manic Doctor of Shibusen.

"There is a reason, Stein, why I sought the vampires before the witches." I turn enough to show him my mask.

"Why I killed them all." I hide no emotions from my mask.

"Why I hunted them alone." My voice grows deep with aggression and fact.

"Why they must never again walk in any form of this world." I let my gaze silence any arguments he has.

Sid does nothing more than watch on mutely, caught between honoring his service, and shock at my attitude. I have still yet to tell whether he can truly judge my emotions anymore, or if his zombie traits and harsh training has lead him to a life of logic and discipline. Whatever the one, and which ever the outcome, I know he will decide on what is right. He always did, and always has, from life to death and beyond. I almost wish I could ask him the course of action to take. But I cannot. I am the leader, I am the ruler, I am Death. Ageless and all knowing, the subjects I have aid me, they cannot guide me. Advisors offer aid to mortal kings, one I am not. The actions I take must be mine alone, and I will see them through, as I always have, and always will.

"Be wary, both of you, of what he is." I turn again from them both, looking into the portal of my domain, the mirror that serves as a conduit of my existence, and my reach.

"What he is, is a boy that that has been put through more hell than any of us has seen, and at an age that barely warrants the knowledge of love, let alone hate." To this day, I still think that the voice of Stein. But as I turn, I see it is not the case.

Those wise words came from none other than Sid, the man who sees with both logic and emotion.

Stein and I both look at the blue faced man with our own reflections of shock. Mine hidden by the stone mask, but the undeniably clear widening of those empty sockets is all the warrant a clever man needs to tell what I am feeling. The manic doctor, however, has let his once tightly bitten cigar fall to the steps of my domain. His mouth does not hang agape as if pulled open by an outside force, nor do his eyes go blank in some childish form of shock. Instead, he gives the subtle signs of genuine surprise. Pupils shrink to a smaller size, narrowing subconsciously at the thing they cannot understand, and mouth open enough to show he puts no force into controlling it. Who would have thought it would be my most loyal of subjects that would counter my speech with his own statement of denial? Not I, not Stien, and should she be here, I doubt even Nygus would hold any better.

"True… That is true Sid." I response slowly, unseen eyes never leaving him. "But he is much more than that now. I will not try and call it fate or fair, not even reasonable. It's a cruel joke, and one that I wish I could have prevented." My hands clench at the knowledge of my pitiable abilities. Master of life and death, ruler of the dead, force beyond the unknown, and I cannot even leave a city I created to save a life worth more than my own. It's beyond stupid, beneath foolish, of me to think that sealing my soul in this land would have truly prevent Asura's return. If I had just killed that monster when I had the chance… No I can't think on that now. Stein. Sid. Maka. Chrona. Vampire. Vampires. Focus.

"My reason for watching him is sound. I do not think of him an enemy, a spy, a monster, or a fool. I see him cursed, just as you. But like a man with the plaque, you care and monitor until you can cure…" I shouldn't have said that word.

"There is a cure?" I would not have thought Stein the one to sound so thrilled by news so transparent. How could he even think there was one? Would I find this all so terrifying if I knew a way out? Would I really see this as the start of something horrible had already a method to prevent it? End it? Stop it all from happening again?

"No Stein… There isn't…"

"But you just said-"

"I misspoke, simple as that. Went too far with the only metaphor that can possibly relate to this… I apologize…" My hand unconsciously moves to my boulder of a mask. I rub each comically long spike, tracing their details as I let the horror of my false hope come and go, float and whither, just pass away. Can I say anything right? I can't protect them, that much I've made clear, but can I at least guide them? Can I still say words that will strengthen their resolve, raise their hopes, and fill them with joy? Can I still even do that without dashing what little joy they find?

"I… I want this to end… end well for everyone, but I cannot risk Chrona, no matter how tortured or cursed he is, to be free in my city without any restraints, while he is still coming into his new… form…" The words are as harsh as an untouched stone. Jagged and edgy, leaving no room for mercy upon any one who falls on it. I can see no other way to end this. The more they are here, the more I will hurt them, with cold words or broken promises. They have to leave, if only briefly.

"Then… Then what should I do?" It was Stein speaking again, not broken, but certainly feeling at least hints of desperation. I cannot blame him, I doubt anyone would even form the idea.

"You know the legends, and you know the myths." I tell him, tell them both, as I turn to regain my stature of strength. "He will be burned by sun, he will be turned by crosses, he will be drowned by flowing water, and he _WILL_ grow a taste for blood." Though they have both done well to regain their own masks, I know well how to read emotions from the eyes. Neither can hide them well.

"For now… go. I will do all that I can for the boy. I've failed him once, and I will not fail him again. That Stein, is my most sincere of promises." I hide nothing in my gaze, letting everything be shown upon my mask. A promise that will not be broken, a vow that will not be tarnished. This is something I will do, must do, can do, and I will not be stopped by boundaries this time.

"Should… should we separate him from the others? Keep Chrona with Just Marie and Stein then?" Sid raises the point before he leaves, freezing the manic doctor in his tracks. I cannot see his face, so I cannot tell his emotions. He could be glad for the chance to have the boy closer to him and his beloved, or he could be angered to have what little acceptance he has be taken away. Another situation I find blameless either way.

"No. Just as you said Sid, he's a boy who's gone through more hell than any of us has seen. Taking away the comfort his friends give him would be no better than the acts Medusa did to him." I see the weight of my words register in his blank white eyes, they widen just a bit, and dry under the shock. A man who thinks with logic and emotions, asking the questions few dare to think. He really is a man that trust more than any other.

"But then… are they safe with him? You just said he'll have cravings for… for blood." Now Stein turns with Sid's words, and just once again out of the dozens of times already, I find the emotion he bares as justified as any other. Pure rage.

"How can you say that Sid?" The blue man makes no move to turn to the doctor as he approaches. "That's no different than me saying we can't trust you! That you'll turn around and start knowing on brains the first chance you get!"

"I've never even thought of such a thing! When I was still alive, I thought of nothing else than protecting other!"

"And Chrona wants nothing else than to be happy here! Why would he risk that? He hasn't even had any of these cravings yet!"

"He has." I didn't need to even think to know what those words would do.

"What?" Stein speaks the single worded question in a voice much softer than the one he just recently was screaming with.

"I saw it when Marie held him in her arms. His ears were against her chest, next beating muscle that he was robbed of. It was so faint, so small, and so easily mistaken for the bliss of the acceptance that I'm sure you all thought it was. But I know better." I looked at them again with my hollow stone mask, just as serious in my gaze as I've been every time a point had to be made. "I fought them before, and I fought them alone, and I know just how to read them. His red eyes were lulled into something far more sinister, corrupted, and evil than the feeling of a peace."

"What then, what was it?" Stein asked again in that defeated voice. I hated it, but I know he will not leave until I give him what he desires. It's more than what I planned, and I dislike changing what I've already decided, but sometimes, as my dear son has taught me, changing plans is part of the plan.

"He felt lust, Stein. Not lusting for her body, but lusting for the conduit of us all, the very part of us that holds our souls." My own hand rises to my chest, hidden amongst the oddly shaped clothes I wear. It's such a precious thing, and fragile thing. Something we all hold dear.

"Her… her heart?" Sid again, wise Sid.

"Yes." Even I sound defeated now.

"But… but maybe your wrong, maybe he just was tired-"

"They don't grow tired with the waning hours like we do Stein. Vampires can go weeks without rest, as long as they stay away from the sun's light. It wouldn't make a difference. They all hunger for what keeps them alive, what their bodies can no longer make."

I have seen the manic doctor this way before, defeated and broken, angry and distraught. It was little different than when Asura's madness had begun to affect him, and he little way to fight it. Depending on someone outside of battle, needing a companion for something so simple, he hated it with all of his soul, despite who was there for him. He did not lash out, and he kept himself enclosed well, but I could see the emotions swirling in his eyes, the defeat at the hands of the realization of his helplessness. But so much good came out of it. He was saved by that person, living now beyond Asura's defeat with that person, planning a future with that person, unashamedly and merrily. I hope too that this turns to be the same, defeat at the moment becoming joy later on. I so truly do hope so… though I don't know how. Maybe… maybe just a bit of hope, something for him to hold onto, to whisper to Marie in secret. Anything to help him now.

"But this is different Stein, Chrona is, even if just a bit different." I see the light grow in his eyes, and Sid turn his head questioningly, not what I had planned, but not negative at all.

"What is that?" He asked in a more controlled voice, the pattern I knew and recognized so well.

"None of the vampires I fought before felt anything other than lust and want. They spread throughout all lands like a hideous plague, caring for humans in the same way you care for steak. They needed nothing else other than sustenance, and they didn't care for trying anything else. Chrona… Chrona however… he already feels something knew, something I never though a vampire would be able to experience." I cannot tell, as I'm sure they cannot, but I do believe I'm smiling under my stone mask.

"He feels complete dependency and love for our resident Kishin Slayer." From both men, alive and dead, I see the faintest hints of smiles pulling at the edges of their lips. Slight realization at the emotion they had both missed, an occurring memory they seemed to have misplaced. It was tough to judge whether or not they knew already, but the important fact was, neither was against the idea. Rather, they both were happy themselves for it, if still slightly shocked. Love can be young, that is true, but dependency on another child still so young, that it is something rare in this world. But… then again… nothing those two have done is anything besides rare, strange, and glorious.

"That is true, and the young Scythe meister does not seem to mind. When I was still alive, I would embrace the idea of young ones loving one another." I know Sid sees nothing wrong with it then. But then, what is there to be wrong with it? I doubt either of them can truly argue Maka has no part in Chrona's life, and I doubt again either would be angered that I called Chrona different, and more, than a vampire. They're good words, and honest truth.

"Indeed." I agree, turning from the men as I do. They knew where I am going, and they know this signals the end of the conversation. I cannot imagine one who wouldn't. From these two, they know more than almost any other, perhaps aside from Spirit or Justin Law. However, I know better than to think either will let me leave at such a break.

"My Lord Death, may I ask question?" Stein spoke those words, with proper honorifics and permission. I doubt his anger and curiosity are completely gone, but they have subsided enough for him to at least act as he once did. That is enough, and all I can.

"Sure can!" I respond, making sure myself to not conceal my childish nature by which I do. Let them both see I think this conversation over, let hem both realize that I have already thought to focus on other things.

"You were the first to see Chrona and Maka, correct?"

"Sure was, why do you want know?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

"What… what do you think Maka feels for him?" That was a striking question.

It wasn't one that I couldn't anticipate, it was just one that I didn't focus my mind on. I thought the conversation was about Chrona, and Maka would be little more than a force to these two, something to recognize, but as little more than that, at least while we deal with the true gravity of Chrona's situation. But it seems I underestimated the Manic Scientist. He knew to not just label a force, but to measure it, and see all that it can affect. After all, if he and Marie are truly going to care for the boy, despite all the horror that's happened, then it would make since for him to care about who he cares for. This is something, that means more to him, more to everyone outside of this room, than to me.

"If she could, I know Maka would make the perfect weapon for Chrona." That is when I leave.

I entered my mirror to ponder, leaving the manic scientist and eternal subject to reflect upon what I said. Let them deal with the children who saved a world, with the citizens who they hurt to find one, with the one who is cursed with a evil most vile. Let them deal with the world that I swore to protect.

I will deal with the coming war.


	9. Chapter 9: Feeling

Never before, not even in the time after the Kishin's defeat, had the squad behind the monster's end felt more peace, more joy, and more relief, than now. As the friends that they were, and as the people they are, they walked merrily down the night cloaked streets of Death City, completely immune to the minor scenes of destruction that surrounded them.

Maka saw nothing more important than the joy they each had. The knowledge of Chrona, the acceptance of Chrona, the joy of Chrona, the idea of Chrona, the love for Chrona. She could tell in their actions, their expressions, and their words just how genuine they all felt for him. She was always an excellent reader of emotions, an analyzer of souls, and never was she happier for her ability than now. She was honoring her promise, fulfilling a wish. Chrona would be happy again, by her hand, by the acceptance of them all. Nothing was more important than that to her. Not the Kishin Eggs, not Soul, not even Death City. Whatever it took, she would make Chrona happy, and seeing him as he was, she was all the happier.

The Thompson Twins could not stop themselves. Everything about Chrona was new to them, each new facet more interesting, more amusing, more amazing than the last. The optimistic little Patti took more than simple curiosity in the young boy's fangs. Her petite fingers wouldn't stop edging at them, fixated on what they were, she grew closer and closer to them, shameless to the distance that she had minimized to the pink haired youth. Walking backwards a she looked at him, she couldn't see anything more amazing than the fangs of his mouth. Liz, however, was far more attracted to his eyes. Cat slit and blood red, she found almost nothing more attractive. While Patti was shameless to walk right in front of the boy, she found more joy in walking beside, but just ahead, looking over her shoulder with a gaze caught between her sister's curiosity and her own seductive wits. It was hard for her to keep her eyes off a boy that was shy… and yet so gorgeous.

The duel ninjas were equally as elated. Tsubaki was smiling for the first time since the declared first death of her dear friend, eyes brimming with fresh tears that she all to willingly let flow. They looked so out of place on her, a horrid façade of misery on a face that otherwise spelt nothing but great joy. Though she didn't jump to Chrona like the other women of the group did, she barely took a step down the moonlight street of Shibusen without at least a glance towards the boy she feared to never see walking again. Black Star, however, had no qualms about getting as close to the pink haired vampire as possible. As they walked down the worn stone streets, he let his arms fall on the shoulders of Chrona, eager to assure himself he was very much alive, very much next him, and at the same time, not allowing him to go too far away. Though he did well to hide it, from others as well as himself, he feared more than anything else that this was just a trick of his mind. Something he thought of as needed, and acted on as if real.

Death the Kid carried a different, but not odd, emotion among the many forms of happiness. Relief. For too long in those books did he dwell searching for answers, only to find nothing but harsh confirmation of what his father had told him, that he would outlive them all, with no one by his side for all that time. It was a truth he fought with all that he was, believing himself it to be nothing more than another mystery in need of solving, a puzzle whose solution was not yet known. But seeing the piece that fought against all the other, the truth that he needed to assure himself such a fate would not come, not in his life, he could feel nothing else, and he wished for nothing else. It was more blissful to him at that moment than the idea of a perfectly symmetrical world.

Soul was mixed. He walked ahead of the group behind him; far ahead of Marie and Nygus who kept back to observe them like they were toddlers in the park. He spent so much of his energy looking for Chrona, assuring himself that Maka was safe in their home. When he was called to Death, told to not go to Maka, he thought something worse than the inevitable had come to pass. But when Maka walked out from behind that mirror, covered in blood, he couldn't even think to yell to her. It was too shocking of an image, to sudden given where they were. It only grew on when Chrona came from behind her hiding behind her petite form like he always did. He knew the moment of that it was Chrona, in spite of the obvious contradiction it made to the image they had all seen to just a week prior. But now… now he wasn't so sure… Why was Chrona so comfortable with everyone around him again? Even when alive, he could barely manage siting next to them in the cafeteria, let alone having half their squad hang off of him. But there he was, smiling with those deceptively sharp teeth, not caring in the slightest. Where was his catchphrase? Where was his inability to understand much of anything? He was glad Chrona was alive, but he wasn't sure it was the same Chrona… But Maka was happy, and that was what really mattered now. With a shark grin, he walked on.

Chrona absorbed himself in the knowledge and joy of his nearby friends, flooded with more warmth than he could ever remember since even his birth. Doubts he had of honesty and affection amongst his friends was long forgotten. Even the doubts he held before his damnable trip, the false ideas that this was all a ruse for his benefit, were left to travel with winds like dust. He could hear each and everyone one of them laugh with true affection, smile with complete decency, and look at him without a trace of fear. And all around them he heard that dull thumping that would have worried him not long ago, but now he took some kind of oddly shaped comfort from it. He didn't need to understand it, because he could easily deal with it, easily love it. The closer they were to him, the louder and more coaxing it was. He didn't want to push that away. Not at all.

They did, however, each have to slowly and unwillingly, depart from one another. The night was old, and they slept none of it, nor the day before. Only Maka had the beauty of sleep and rest, Chrona looking as if he would never need it again, how merrily he was grinning. It was more than obvious how little everyone wanted to leave, but a few trips and near faints made it more than clear that their bodies couldn't last another restless night. So one by one, they began to depart.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

"I'll… I'll see you tomorrow Chrona. You better still be here." Black Star spoke to Chrona with an almost drunk looking smile. He must have really pushed himself to look for Chrona. I always knew there was passionate side beneath all that hubris of his. "And promise, 'cause breaking a promise against the man who transcended God is going to be dangerous." But that doesn't mean he'll ever outgrow it.

"I… I promise…" He says it so nervously, and how can't he? He's never been this loved, this appreciated, this happy. It makes me happy knowing he is, knowing he's learning how to deal with it. It's just part of the promise I have to keep.

"Take care Chrona, and please, keep safe." Thank you Tsubaki. If there was ever someone I knew would accept Chrona, it was you. Not even the antics of Black Star or the odd hobbies of Kid can turn you away from their partnership and friendship. You accept anyone, no matter what they are. Thank you for not changing that now. The duel ninjas depart the, Black Star and Tsubaki. I have to giggle just a little when I see Black Star try and turn around, thinking no doubt that he can last another hour. But they disappear beyond a row of buildings, and they're out of sight.

"I suppose it is time we depart ourselves then." Kid announced from just beside me. I watch his golden irises look to Chrona, not even a hint of scorn or displeasure about them. "Chrona," he announced with an extension of his hand, "I look forward to see you soon, whenever and wherever possible, my friend." Not once did I think the son of Shinigami would hold contempt for someone who was different, especially when he was far different than anyone of us, but seeing him say it so… seriously, warmly even, I can't help the slight blush on my cheeks. I suppose there is a reason so many girls fawn often over him, I just never really saw it till now. Chrona must feel close to the same. I can see his eyes widen at the words, mouth mimicking. His fangs just barely peak out as he does so. It's hesitant, but I see his hand rise, ready to grasp Kid's. He really is learning to deal with things li-

"It'll be tomorrow!" I didn't see her before she did it. Patti jumped onto Chrona, no longer content with just staring at him. His mouth opens in shock, and his go even wider. He doesn't know how to deal with that. I wouldn't even know how! "We'll go play basketball, get ice cream, go shopping, and make tons of giraffes! It'll like that every day!" She was completely ignorant to the way Chrona was acting. He was terrified, and I was terrified for him. That is too much for him. Way too much now.

"I-I-I don't know how to deal with this!" That innocent pink haired boy let out the whine I know so well. Putting his hands to arms, he pushed the young Thompson twin from him, successfully freeing himself from her. Briefly. No sooner was her grip lost did Patti grab hold of him again, holding to one of his arms like a daughter would to her dad. That girl… she really is just a little kid.

"Aw, c'mon!" She cheers despite the front he was giving. "Let's go now, we can all go! Who needs to sleep?" That was enough for her sister, thankfully.

"Alright Patti, it's time to go." I can't help but breath a small sigh of relief at Liz's interjection. If it weren't for her, I don't any of us would be able to control Patti. Taking her role as older sibling seriously, she took hold of her younger twin, pulling her from the terrified boy. Chrona was stuck holding his chest as he stared back the young girl. The way he looks now… it's almost as if nothings changed.

"As for you Chrona." Liz points with the accusation. I think for a moment that she's going to aim some wrong doing at him, that some part of this was his fault. How could she do that? All he did was stand there as he was literally assaulted. She had better watch her words carefully…

"I'll see you tomorrow." Wink, kiss, twist.

"I-I-I-I still don't know how t-to deal with th-that!" Neither do I… But… but did Liz just… just hit on Chrona? I… I guess that's a form of… acceptance, isn't it? Yeah… yeah it is but… that's just not what I expected. A quick glance to the others and it's more than obvious Chrona and I aren't the only ones to feel that way. Soul giving a looked between disgust and bewilderment and Kid just a plain look of mild shock. I guess compared to everything else this is a pretty mild twist.

"A-Anyway." Kid speaks once he catches himself, straightening his tie as he does so. "It is best for us to depart now. Until tomorrow, Chrona." A small smile from the son of Death, and he begins to walk away as well, hands behind his back in perfect symmetry. Liz and Patti beside him the two walked off down the streets, turning down the road that led to his symmetrical home. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he had to walk the city once to make his path symmetrical.

"Guess that just leaves you and me then Maka." Soul spoke with a turn of his head. His white hair hanged ever so slightly over his headband. He must have really been awake all this time, searching for Chrona when I couldn't… He really is loyal to me beyond words. "So, wanna head back now? It wouldn't be too cool to let walk home by yourself." He flashes that sharp-tooth grin of his again, the one gives whenever he's acting cool. But he isn't acting, that's what he is, cool. In actions, discipline, thought, and speech. Cool inside and out. It's hard to like a guy like Soul. But there is something more important I have to deal with now. He'll understand, no matter how 'uncool' it may be.

"That's okay Soul, I actually need a favor." His eyes hang with his tightened lips. He's not mad, just curios, wondering what it could be, what I'm going to ask. He's smart, always is and always will be. Knowing him, he'll figure out what I want before I even say it. However… someone else needs to agree to it…

"I kind of wan… need to speak… to Chrona." I look at him when I say his name, the cursed sword meister. He is a bit shocked, but not in a bad way. His eyes are a bit wide, but his mouth is only barely open, and his skin hasn't paled any further. I can't tell what he feels… not until I see the smile start to pull at the edges of his lips, drawing the curtain to show his cursed fangs through his guiltless smile. At least I know he feels about talking to me now, as for Soul… I get an aloof expression, just a pass of his gaze as his eyes move to Chrona as well. Despite how both now stare red to red, their eyes couldn't be different.

Soul's show a mixture of determination and power, a non-to-subtle sign that he's hiding much of his strength were eyes cannot see. In his soul, in his heart, in his mind, in his words, in things that have affect on and off the field of battle, with things that can change the course of history. That's what he was, a determinator for nearly everything, deciding with thought and wisdom that would give Lord Death pause. They were so different from Chrona's.

His… his were a sign to all of his pain, hate, rage, sorrow, curses, pity, and shame. It was hard to look into those now blood red eyes and see the good from the bad. The innocence he had was there, I know it as well as anyone else who knows him, but it's hidden so deep, so far beneath all the horrifying memories he was forced to endure at the hands of Me… of his mother. The murders he was literally twisted to commit, sharing his body with a the living blood weapon Ragnarok, left to die like an injured dog, and cursed for eternity by an entity that even Lord Death thought was dead. It's so hard to see the good that Chrona has in him, and I'll be the first to admit it. But I'll also be the first to show that it is there, that he has it in him just as much, if not more, than anyone else in Shibusen. It's just knowing what he needs… But no… both of their eyes are red, but they are not the same.

But eyes that reflect different sensations can still see eye to eye.

"Make sure she's not back too late," Soul tells Chrona with a turn of his shoulder. He works off a shrug with his shoulders, hiding pitifully the large yawn that stretches his mouth. "Wouldn't want her to get off her studying schedule any further, huh?" He chuckles after that, and I join him. I am pretty far behind my studies now, but I can't find it in me to care, and I doubt anyone else does. This is just a bit more important.

"I-I promise." That's the innocence right there. The naivety that is the portal the pink haired meister's innocence. Even Patti would see just how paper thin Soul's deal was, but Chrona took it like promise of the heart, something to treasure and deliver. I missed that… but now I have it back…

"That's good. Well…" he says with a turn to me, "I'll see ya later Maka. Don't wake me when you get back. That would definitely be uncool." I stifle a giggle at his empty threat. With a turn down the street just to our side, he disappears into the building's shadows cast by the laughing moon.

"So, you want to stay up a bit longer Chrona?" I couldn't help but give a slight jump at the voice. Despite Soul's subtle reminder, I completely forgot about Mrs. Marie and Nygus. With a turn, I see them both there. Nygus standing just behind her blonde companion, arms crossed and face unreadable beneath those many bandages of hers. All we can ever see are those crystal eyes of hers. They are beautiful, the only part of her we can really see, but it's enough to know at least the most dominant of emotions she feels. Right now, it's happiness, the same thing that everyone feels. Mrs. Marie is happy as well, but far more than that. She is completely content, satisfied, satiated with life. Her smile is near blinding in the darkness of the night, and her angel blonde hair does so much to add to it. I can't help but feel a small amount of jealousy towards her… A beautiful death scythe, with hair, eyes, and a smile that could satisfy even Dr. Stein of all people… How can someone like me, a twig with barely enough common sense to stay alive? But she'd never let you think that's what she cares about. The way she helps everyone around her, that bubbly almost childish attitude, it's an odd way for her to act, one who is as gifted as her… Still… no matter how hard I might ever think about it, I can't name one other person in all the world better to care for Chrona. Chrona… he had yet to answer her… I take a look to see why, and I can't help but blush. He's looking at me. He's waiting for me to tell him… That's… that's just like how he used to act, depending on me for the slightest thing. It's more than nice, it's blissful.

"I hope you do." I say to him, choosing my words carefully. Not so strong to make him unable to deal with it, and so subtle that it flies over his head. Direct, but soft. Blunt, but cushioned. That was what Chrona needed, and I would give him everything he needs. I promised him I would, and I will.

I see his smile come again at my words, with determination swiftly following. His red gaze falls on Mrs. Marie, who proves my every thought right when she doesn't flinch, grimace, or even wince an eye at the gaze. She sees nothing wrong with what he is, pitying only that the curse fell on him. I only hope that everyone else feels the same… sees him the same way as she does, as I do.

"I-I'm going to talk with Maka, M-Mrs. Marie." His arms are up to his chest as he says it, so nervous that she'll say to such an innocent request. It's hard to argue how feminine he looks when that happens, but more than anything else, I see a child.

A scared abused child that doesn't want anything in his fragile world to fall apart. He doesn't want anyone to be angry at him, he doesn't want anyone to hate him, and he doesn't want anyone to fear him. So he avoids everyone he can, anyone that he can't already deal with. Change is dangerous, and if something were to break in his glass world because of that change, it would break him… And I swear above my oath to Lord Death that I will die before I let that happen to him.

"Take all the time you need Chrona." Mrs. Marie says without the smile quivering for an instant. "But remember," she walks over to him, and I can't help for just a having a flash of paranoia, even if it was just for a second. That she would push him away, tell him to stay away for the rest of her life. I know she won't, she can't, she would never do something that cruel… but… but what if? But my fears are laid to rest when she sets her hands on Chrona's shoulders, bending over to look him in the eyes with nothing but love and devotion, the kind my mother used to show me…

"You'll come back to my place, not the dungeon." I see his jaw twitch at the words. Is he going to cry? Maybe, and I wouldn't doubt it. So much love in a life that was loveless, how could he not cry? But then… Mrs. Marie caught something I didn't, saying something I would say if I had seen what she had.

"And I'll make sure you can 'deal' with it, even if it takes the rest of the night." She stands and pulls him into a hug, and embrace that the innocence pink haired youth falls into without any hesitation. I could be blind and see just how much he loves it. The soft rustling their dresses make as he holds her closer, the soft sniffling he makes makes against her chest, content sighs coming from between his lips. It must be bliss, and I can't be happier for it.

"I'll see you both in the morning then." Mrs. Marie says as she pulls away from him, still holding Chrona at arms length with her own hesitancy to release him. It's only empathy I see in her eyes, and I love to know that someone other than me gives Chrona such care. They stay like that for a while longer, Mrs. Marie holding Chrona, and Chrona holding himself. I don't have the heart to break them apart. Fortunately, Nygus does. A hand on the blonde's shoulder, and the woman slowly released the pink haired youth. A bow of the head, and she left with the knife weapon's hand across her shoulders. They turned a corner and were lost to the night.

Now it's just us. Just me and the boy with a curse unfit for anyone in the world.

"M-Maka?" His voice calls to me, nervous as always, cute, as he'll ever be. His arms had changed positions. He was no longer holding himself, but grabbing left arm with his right, holding like he always did, and very well always will. A nervous habit I doubt even he recognizes. I don't care, I can't care about that. All I care about is the way he is looking at me. With those eyes that held more pain than I had ever experience, they offered me more peace than almost anything else in this world. Despite all the pain he had, he still offered the little peace he found. How can that be anything less than innocent? He needs this. He needs someone. And as I outstretch my hand, I don't think for a second it can be anyone but me.

"Let's go for a walk Chrona." For a moment, he looks at my hand curiosly, like it's the first time he's seen it. Not scared, terrified, or even offset, just curious. His red slit eyes look at my gloved hand for every one of its details. The stitching, the color, the stains, but more than anything else, I think he wonders what's beneath it. He's only touched the skin of my hand a few times, every time else I had gloves on of some sort. At the dance, in the dungeons, in battle, I'm always wearing gloves, and that's always when I see him… I'll have to fix that. I pull my hand back, and he looks at my face quickly, thinking he's done something wrong. I can already see his lips pull to say he's sorry, beg for needless forgiveness. I can't have that either.

"Hold on a minute." I told him with the kindest smile I can muster, though I doubt it comes close to what Mrs. Marie can offer him. "I just want to show you something." Taking the fabric at my finger tips, I give it a small pinch, holding the white material separate from my skin. Smile still in place, I give a quick tug on my hand. Slowly, I'll probably laugh later exotically, the glove removes itself from hand, freeing the skin I so rarely show. It's hard for me to even recall the last time I wore my clothes without my gloves. It feels almost… like I'm naked, baring myself. And yet, I can't seem to care that I'm doing it. Not with Chrona. I trust him, and I know he'll see this as everything but small. I can't help but close my eyes with a slight giggle at Chrona's expression. The way his jaw opens slightly, shocked that I would do something like this. I see it as baring a part of myself; he might as well think I'm stripping. From the way his eyes grow, and the slight color that returns to his otherwise pale cheeks, I begin to think he does.

"W-Wha-?" Chrona mutters as his crimson eyes watch my gloveless hand. Again, as I did before. I stretch it out to him, waiting for him to take my hand. I don't want to take his this time. I want to know he's doing this willingly, that I'm not dragging him into something he'll regret. I want him to want this, and this is best way I can think of. Please. Please take my hand…

Tentatively, he does begin to move to me. Step by step, foot by foot, he draws closer to me, never taking his eyes off my plain hand. But he is coming to me, he is coming closer to me. He isn't stating his inability to deal with me, he isn't backing away from me either. He's approaching me, of his own will, of his own need. That's all I need. That's all he needs. My heart swells when I see his hand move for mine, releasing his arm from his nervous habit. Watching his fingers approach my own, nervously retracting and extending as his arm moves closer, it really is heart warming to watch. And when he finally grabs my hand, I squeeze back with all my strength, sure to let him know I'm here, I'm for him, and I will never let him go. And with that action I see what I want to see, what I know I need to see for the rest of my life.

His small caring gentle smile.

The way his lips curve so easily, the curve his eyes follow when he feels that absolute peace, there is no way to describe the euphoria it gives me. My heart races when I heart that pleasant laugh come from the top of his lungs, a hidden pleasure he had stashed away to enjoy one day. Watching his pink hair border the edges of his face, holding that serene expression in a natural frame, I can't bring myself to even breath unless I wish to disturb that picture of perfection. In spite of all those miniscule flaws, in disregard to the cat slit red eyes and fanged canines, uncaring to the pale flesh or cold touch, this is the very definition of perfection to me. The boy who was tortured for all of his life as an experiment, as a puppet, as a toy, to smile with such innocence and love is nothing short of an act of God. And I can't stop myself from thanking him again and again for it. Thank you for letting me meet this boy, for letting me help him, for bringing him back to me, and having him stay with me. Thank you for everything.

"M-Maka?" He calls my name, and have to shake my head. Did I really just lose myself by staring at him? Yes, Yes I did, and I would shamelessly do it again, as long as he had that heavenly smile on his face.

"C'mon!" I say needlessly loud, and Chrona thinks so to, or at least I think he does by the way he tilts his head back with those slightly wider eyes.

"We gotta a lot to take about." We both know we did. Hopefully, the hard part was over. Everyone knew about his secret, no matter how shortly it was just his secret. He was back from the dead, with a curse meant only for the dead, and changed forever from who he was. Everyone learned of an enemy more powerful than the witches, and one that Lord Death was supposed to have killed. What kind of luck must we have for us to find out only after Chrona is killed by one? But even though everything is out in the open now, we still need to talk. Just the two of us for now, maybe the rest later. But for now, it was just me and him, just the two of us.

"You know…" I begin cautiously. "A lot's going to change now." I can feel his grip get stronger when I say that. And of course it would. I just threatened his little glass world. We take a right down a short alley, coming to a small garden between the buildings. Not completely secluded, but quiet enough at the waning hours of the night of us to talk. For now, it's perfect.

"But don't worry, I'm not going to stop being your friend, and neither is anyone else." He has to remember than more than anything else. The most important things are still there, and they will always be there. I won't let them slip away. Looking back I see the bare recognition of hope across his otherwise sorrow filled eye, red and slit as they were. I give him my own squeeze of reassurance. Hand against a tree, I continue.

"I guess, it's kind of like moving a tree." I can see the quizzical look in his eyes. I expected it. "Your still the same person, the same memories, the same emotion, almost entirely the same. Your still same Chrona everyone loves." I watch him smile, and it only makes my own larger. "It doesn't matter that you're in different soil, or going to have different restrictions, they're not going to change who you are, and they're not going to change how I see you."

"R-Really?" I can feel my heart beat faster under his gaze, as hazed and hopeful as it is. He really does look innocent, and he also really does look dangerous. If I were any other kind of girl, I'd call that the lottery.

"Really." I respond back. Before I can act, he puts himself to my chest, holding me in a tight hug. He's cold to the touch, like wrapping me in a blanket that was out during the night. But he's soft as well, like a blanket that I've slept with all my life. He's the best of the both worlds right now. Calming with his softness and soothing with his chill. It isn't hard for me to feel myself hugging him back. My black cloaked arms wrapped around his own dark dress, I hold the body of the once Demon Blade Meister closer to myself, content with my head being placed just above his shoulder. He's taller than me, and I know he is, but not so much so that it hurts. I can deal with it. A small giggle comes from the back of my throat when I feel his breath against my neck, cool as his touch and ten times as nerve tingling.

But then everything changes.

His arms that were once wrapped around me have now shoved me away, pushing me with a violent force that I didn't think Chrona would so willingly use. I hit the hard bark of the tree with a thud, and I know my shoulders are going to bruise. Back against the tree, Chrona just before me, with his eyes red and focused on my form, I can't help the quick jolt of fear that rips through me. But I control myself, remind myself, this is Chrona, the same Chrona as always. He won't hurt me, and I won't hurt him. He's just going to talk again.

"I don't want to deal with this anymore Maka." One sentence in, and I already find myself hating this conversation with everything I have left to hate with. "I can't deal with being worried about what I'm doing. I don't know how to deal with being… being soulless. I can't deal with being separate from Ragnarok. I don't know how to interact with anyone anymore, not even you." Why is he saying this? It wasn't even an hour ago that everyone was smiling with him? Why is he even thinking this? "You… You're all smiling, laughing, grinning… acting…" Is that it? That's what he thinks we're all doing?

"That's not true!" I'm screaming, I know I am, but I have to. This is not a conversation I can just let slip by with mute words on my part. He needs to know, to remember, just how awfully wrong he is. "I'm enjoying every second with you! I don't care about being up late, I don't care about you missing a soul. I don't care about any of that." My feet move me towards him before I even realize it, letting my hands glide across his inhumanly pale features. They're so cold, but so soft.

"I care about you, I care about being with you." Please know what I'm saying Chrona. Understand just how much this means to me. "You're strong, your valiant, your honest. You're you. We all see… _I_ see you as that."

"But… But I don't." What? What? He's looking away from me, avoiding me, and I'm avoiding him. Where my feet just brought me to him, now they're leading me away, backing away horrified at his words.

"W-when I first… turned… I walked Shibusen alone for an entire day." He's still not looking at me. He's looking at the moon, the manic crazed moon, gripping his own arms with such strength, his otherworldly strength. "I felt so peaceful Maka." He turns to me, and I almost, almost, wish he hadn't.

His blood red eyes are lit horrifyingly bright, giving off the ominous glow we both feared, but both dealt with. A smile so close, but so wickedly different, to his calm gentle smile is set just below those vampiric eyes of his. The fangs he hates are clear as the stars, and no doubt as bright as what I fear are his wicked desires. For all the horror and terror we both tried to understand, and so desperately fought to comprehend, Chrona has thrown it all away. I know he has. And I know why.

He's completely accepting it.

He's happy.

"I… I can hear your h-heartbeat." He… he can? "It sounds so amazing… so peaceful. Mrs. Marie's was stronger, slower, older, harder… I-I love the sound of i-it." What are you saying Chrona? "Y-yours is better! Softer, faster, younger, perfect, angelic…" He's coming so close to me. So… so uncharacteristically close… This… This isn't him. I feel his hand on me before I see it. He's holding my shoulder so tight. I know why I missed it though… I'm not watching his hands… I'm watching his eyes.

But his hand _IS_ hurting me.

"I can't deal with this. I… I n-n-need it, b-but L-Lord Death-th… he'll k-kill m-me. I know w-w-why, but it… i-i-it's too hard." Need what? What does he need? It hurts. It really does hurt. Please stop. Please stop, Chrona. This isn't you.

"C-Chrona… S-Stop."

He's not stopping. He's eyes are so close to mine, so close they're all I see. The Crimson Irises, I can't look away. I can feel the pain though, just on my neck. His grip is so strong, stronger than mine, stronger than he ever was with black blood. Why is he doing this? Why is he hurting me? Why?

I gasp.

His eyes are gone. All I can see are the stars in the sky, and the bright laughing moon just above me. But below my neck, so close to my chin, I feel what I feared. A prickling sensation, like a needle in the arm, or a jolt of electricity. It spills down my neck, rippling through chest as pebbles would a pond, breaking any calm sensation I had with unavoidable pleasure. Pleasure… it feels so good. It's rocking through my core now, slowly lowering itself through my gut, into my legs. My muscles are giving way to it, and I can't think of a reason why I should stop it. Toes and fingers unintentionally curling at the sensation of it all.

I want to scream out in the feeling, but instead I feel a moan come from my lips, neck arching to further whatever great source is filling me. In droves, the pleasure enters me, the ecstasy filing me with shots and jolts in my imagination. Something must be holding me up, because my legs are no longer on the ground. I'm curling in on myself in midair, unable to do anything to satisfy my growing lust.

Then it gets better.

A heat enters me worse than any desert I have ever gone into, or any summer day with broken air conditioning. An insatiable heat that's driving me from head to toe, but far worse in my core than any other part of me. It's pulling at strings never used before in my life, playing chords I thought never even existed, driving them into an action that I only read about in romance novels. My legs are squirming together, unable to do anything but make the heat worse. Pants of breath enter and leave me, no doubt visible against the cool night air, with how hot my body is now.

It's unimaginable, unintelligible. How can anyone even think with this feeling? This pleasure, this ecstasy, this heat, this-

Oh… Oh my God.

Chrona bit me. Chrona _IS_ biting me.

My mood changes on a dime, swinging from pleasure to fear, joy to sorrow, heat to cold. This is wrong, this is all so incredibly wrong!

"Chrona…" I'm crying with the words, crying with the horror that I feel. This is wrong this is all so wrong. "Please Chrona… It-" A rough cough stops me. His… fangs just bit harder on me, gaining deeper entry into my neck as they silence my pleas for release. Desperation, I hate this feeling. But it does help. It forces my hands to his head, pulling his hair, pushing his face, doing anything they can to get him away from me. Just a small amount. Just so I can talk again, just so I can say his name. I need to reach him. I so desperately do. With the courage I have, I pull even harder on his hair, hard enough to rip a few strands from the roots, and loosen the death giving bite he has on my neck. I'll cry for it later, but I say the words I know will damn him.

"You're hurting me Chrona."

It was instantaneous.

Chrona, the so sweet and innocent Chrona, wrenched away from me as if my own blood had turned to acid, burning the inside of his mouth. I catch only a glimpse of his face before he turns away from me, but it's horrific enough to capture a permanent place in my mind…

His eyes are a piercing crimson, filled so far with regret and anger that I feel myself flinch at the gaze. He hates what's he's done, hates it with all that he is, was, and ever will be. And the anger… he's so mad at himself. Just by his eyes, I can see more inner hate than I have ever felt before. But then his skin, his now so pale skin, is pale enough to make me think for just a moment he's died again. White in shock, drained completely of what little blood still was left in that… that cursed form of his. But all of that is surrounding the thing I think now is the source of all this evil, the true core to this… stupid FUCKING curse…

Those fangs. Those now blood tipped and dripping fangs.

They arch horribly from his mouth, looking like a striking snake on its prey. They resemble nothing that I know is the real Chrona… but they pierced my skin, drank my blood, made me feel… violated. That wasn't Chrona. It was those fangs, those horribly curved and monstrously long fangs. I see them for just a breath longer before he slaps his hand over his mouth, the horror of what he's… what they have done coming to him full force. I don't have any kind of shock when the red blood tears start to flow down his check, staining his pale skin and black dress an even darker red. What I feel is what I've always felt for him, and what I feel now more than ever.

Pity.

"Chrona…" I whisper his name. He doesn't react to it though, just continues to stare at me with those crying red eyes. I watch him take small steps from me, growing larger and larger with each one. He's going to run, he's going to hide… and I might lose him again…

"Chrona wait!" I know I shouldn't shout, not to him, not like that, but I have to, I have to stop him. And it does. He freezes at my voice, and gripping his face hard enough to bruise skin, maybe even fracture bone. I can already tell he hates himself, I don't want him to think I do.

"It's okay Chrona, its-" I stop when I hear a muffled voice against his hand. It was impossible to make out, and he doesn't have any intention of removing his hand. But… I have to hear it, I have to know what he said. My feet carry me to him without my command, my eyes focused more on him than anything else. I want him to see that I don't hate him, that I don't blame him that I know it is not is fault in the slightest.

"Chrona… I'm not mad at you." I say it as kindly as I can, the same way I would lull a baby to sleep. "That… that was just… just an accident, I understand." I don't understand, but I know it's not him that did it. He was fighting it the whole time, and I damn those fangs for what they did. But it wasn't him, and that's all that matters to me. But he's mumbling again, speaking into his pale white slowly staining red hand. I can't hear what he's saying, but I know he's chanting it now…

"Chrona… please move your hand." My own hand is reaching for his as I say it, my still bare hand. I won't bare myself form him in anyway, and reaching for him for a hand that's still gloved only tells him I am afraid. I may be afraid, but not of him, not what he is, only those things that are pushing him. My fingers touch his, and falls to his knees. I pull my hand back in a slight shock. The way he just feel, it was so sudden, he didn't even try and stop himself. But as I look down, I see him still staring at me with those damnable red eyes. He's still looking at me, at… at… He's not looking at me, he's looking at my neck.

He's looking at where he bit me.

My gloved hand raises to the place I felt all those conflicting feelings, the location of the pleasure, pain, lust, and horror. Landing just beneath my check, I let my hand glide down my skin, slowly to find just where those horrendous things bit me. It doesn't take long. My fingers stop over a pair of holes, to equally sized and spaced holes, right on the side of my neck. I can feel the hot liquid seep through the white fabric, staining my gloves and skin beneath. It doesn't hurt now, despite how much I know it should. Actually, I don't feel anything there, not even the cold night air. It's numb, almost like when Lady Arachne's web numbing. But I can still move my neck, still see, still breath. So it's not bad, it just looks that way. And Chrona… he thinks he might have killed me with it… Oh Chrona…

"I'm fine Chrona." I tell him honestly, bending down to his fallen form. Hands on my knees, I look him straight in the eyes, unblinking to the sorrowful red gaze he returns mine with. "I don't feel a thing there." And then he mumbles again. Mumbling into his hand that he refuses to move.

"Chrona… it's okay… you can move your hand. I'm fine, really." He doesn't mumble in return, but he does respond. A violent shake of his head no, letting his pink locks fly left and right. He's terrified, and I can read it all over him. The hand that is breaking his jaw to stay shut is clenched on the grass concrete below, making visible cracks along the stone hard surface. The blood tears had yet to stop rolling down his face, and now they're collecting on the ground, appearing to the entire world that he is bleeding out. I ignore that. That's not important, not now.

"Please Chrona. I can't hear you." That does something. He looks away from my neck, down more, down further. I don't think he's actually looking, but… but thinking. That's good, that's amazing! He'll know I won't care, the same way I've never cared before. I don't care that he hurt me, I don't care that he lost control. All I know is that it wasn't him, it wasn't what he wanted. So please, talk to me, let me know what happened, tell me that YOU'RE all right. And for a moment he does.

His muscles relax, his face calms down. The fingers clenched against his mouth and jaw slowly gains color, though barely any at all. I can see the weight of his hand slowly fall from his face, more and more of his skin showing itself to me. That's great! That's what I need, what he needs. It wasn't your fault Chrona, it was never your fault. Not before, and not now. It's just a force controlling you, and your fighting it. You didn't hurt me. Not you. Never you. Just when I can see his lips, see those pale red lines that hide the core of the curse, they move.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't hate me. Don't hate me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me." And so his mantra is spoken. All the while the blood red tears continue to fall, and his grip himself in a fetal position self hug. Legs bending to his chest, hugged closer by his dark covered arms, his face remains visible only because it sits on his forearms, waiting for me to tell him its alright, waiting for me to save him again.

And will always answer that call.

"It's okay Chrona." I tell him earnestly, honestly. "I don't blame you. I'll never blame you." I put my hands to his shoulder, glove and ungloved. I look into his slit red eyes without any fear in my own, holding the courage that allowed me to kill a Kishin as close to my heart as possible. If I waver in his sight, from his actions, he may never be able to have the peace he so rightly deserves again. I will NOT let that happen. I have a second chance. I don't need, don't want, a third.

"I hurt you. I bit you. I sucked your blood. You should hate me. You DO hate me." No I don't!

"NO! No. I. Don't." With each word I speak, I shake him, letting them drive home. "I know you didn't want to. I know that you were forced to. You were forced to do so much evil Chrona, and I don't blame you for any of that, the same way I don't blame you for this." Please see that I'm telling the truth. Don't doubt me. Not now of all times. You… you just need something good, something to assure that this is alright, that this isn't your fault, that this wasn't…bad? That… that might work.

"B-Besides…" I begin to speak, but I'm having trouble even thinking of saying the words. How can I? I've never said something so… vulgar. It'll make me sound like… like… Blair. How can I even think to talk like that perverted cat? I don't know, but… but is it the only thing that will work. One look at Chrona, looking like he's closer and closer approaching a breakdown that I don't want to happen, and I know it's the only choice I have. Shinigami save my soul…

"I-It felt kind… kind of… of…" Chrona's head was tilting curiously to my words, probably just as confused to what I was doing as I am. I can only hope what I say doesn't fix a poison with poison. I doubt Chrona would be able to deal with that. But this is serious, and if it only takes a bit of self confession to bring Chrona back from the brink, I'll do it. He needs that much at least, and I promised I would always honor that promise.

"It felt…" SAY IT! "It felt hot." I can feel my face burning up just saying that word like that. Describing what I felt in even one word to somebody… it's probably the most degrading thing I've ever done… but… but did it work? Chrona's look said otherwise.

"I-I b-burned you t-too?" No, oh god no.

"No!" I shouted, probably louder than I needed to. But he was getting the wrong message. One hand on his shoulder, my other hand, the ungloved one, moved to my chest, putting the flat palm against my torso.

"I felt hot inside myself, like my insides were melting in a whirlpool of indescribable pleasure. From head to toe it felt as if I was being slowly stripped of every bad thing about, and being left to feel nothing but the most intense pleasure I could have ever possibly imagined!" I don't think I realized quite yet that Chrona had gone from self-hatred to complete embarrassment while I was ranting.

"Can you imagine just how great it feels to have every little detail of your body being completely forgotten to nothing but intense desire? I was growing hotter and hotter from my heart to my very core. It felt like having SEX!" I slap my mouth shut with my hand. Chrona did the same.

Did I just say that? Did I just rant like that? Did I just say such vulgar things? Oh this would take years to explain to anyway if anyone heard me say that anywhere else. It would have completely destroyed all of the respect and dignity I had built up in Death City for the past three years. Not even killing a Kishin would make up that kind of embarrassment. I'd be mocked and ostracized for years for saying that so boldly anywhere else. But here I am, screaming it to the face of my most tortured friend. How could I have possibly thought that would help? Well… it did shock him still and silent… Is that a good thing?

"I-Is that a-a g-g-good thin-ng?" I can't help it. I laugh. Despite our position, him sititng on the ground with his knees pulled, and me kneeing just in front of him, I can't find any reason good enough for me not to laugh. It was just… so cute, so innocent. Only Chrona would ask a question like that, only the Chrona that I know. Without waiting for his permission, I pull him into a hug, rocking him on his feet so his head lies against my chest. The remains of his blood tear trail stains my white undershirt horribly, but I don't care in the slightest. All I know is that this is still my Chrona, the same Chrona I've always known.

"Yeah, that is a good thing." Just a bit harder, I pull him closer to me as I speak those words. I honestly don't know if it is or isn't. It felt so good at first, and I wanted nothing but more of that… feeling. But when I realized what it was, what was happening, the shock and fear made all that pleasure nothing but a tree within an endless forest. I guess… it could be a good thing. But if it came from Chrona, the real Chrona, then it had to be.

"Th-Then…" I look down at him as he forms his sentence, trying to wipe away the blood on his cheeks without staining my shirt. It's far too late for that though. "C-C-Can I do… i-it a-again?" I can't call that request innocent. And I can't call my response innocent either. Angling my head down, looking into his cat slit red eyes, I answer him with a smile I hope he enjoys.

"As long as you control yourself Chrona, I trust you."

For just a moment, I give him a soft kiss on his forehead. He needs to know that I do trust him, and above all else I don't fear him. That's the last thing he needs anybody to feel for him. The smile he gives me sits between a pleasant shock and tearful bliss. I see the blood line his eyes like fresh tears would in mine, but they just sit there, not falling, hanging under his equally crimson irises. So happy by my words that he's going to cry? I guess I did say the right thing.

And as I feel his fangs pierce my skin once again, I only hope I made the right decision as well.

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**Authors's Note:** Wow, this took long enough to come out, and I'm sure that I'm gonna get a grand total of 2 reviews this time around. Seriously, this was hard to right though, and it'll probably have one of the most substantial impacts on the story that follows. Longest chapter too, just shy of 10,000 words. But I'm good like that, humility.

Seriously though, write a review, let me know if this is going too fast, too slow, or whatever in between. I don't want to lose the few fans I have for this. Till next time.


	10. Chapter 10: Consequences

**Author's Note:** This goes at the beginning for two huge reasons. The first part of this chapter goes M rated. Per the blunt demanding ferocious desire subtle requests of the reviews I got, I decided to extend the "bite" scene. Not explicit or over the top, but it definitely is beyond the boundaries of T. People who don't get the hint will think it's still T, so until someone starts yelling to mommy and daddy for the brain bleach, I'm going to leave it T… for now… Others who have a clue how the human body works pre-intercourse will be squirming in their seats with either delight or sickness.

You HAVE been warned.

Oh, and for those who may notice the scene appearing to go on too long, remember this. When donating blood, it can take approximately 15 minutes on average to donate half a liter of blood. That's from one hole in an ARTERY! Two holes that avoid the major carotid arteries are not going to drain a whole lot of blood fast. If they DID hit an artery… Maka would be screwed… No not literally…

Enjoy.

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Sweet… soft… light… warm… smooth… lasting… decadent… licentious… and above all else… _pure_…

I've never tasted anything so great as this. No meat of the living, no nectar of the wild, and no soul of the dead is as filling as this. I can't get enough of it! The more I have the more I want, the more my body demands to take. It's an insatiable taste and feeling, having to drink this liquid. I don't have to think how to deal with it. I'm enjoying it too much to have to. There is nothing I can think of that is wrong with this taste. It isn't off for me to say that it could be the elixir of life, a liquid that gives me nothing but pleasure and nourishment.

In between draws of the delicious liquid, my tongue begins to work at the holes, playing with the skin to bring out more of that precious liquid, that divine treat. I trace around each one delicately, outlining the marks I'm leaving. Each one of them has small drops of valuable liquid on them, ignoring my desire to taste them. I can't leave anyone of them alone. I need all that's there, every single drop of it. It's far too precious to ignore. It would be nothing less than an insult of me to ignore any trickle of it. It's all so precious, wanted, needed, desired, important, loved, sacred. It would be rude of me to insult any part of Maka. I don't know how to deal with insulting Maka.

But… I stop for a moment. I don't lift myself from her neck, I just stop. I think Maka is… moaning with what I'm doing to her. But that's not what's stopping me, that would only tell me to do more. I can deal with Maka being happy, and she told me that she was happy before. It's what she's doing now that stops me. She's moving against me, wrapping fingers into my hair, entwining each of her digits with my pink locks. I can feel her nails rubbing into my scalp, holding me closer against her with every drink of her I take. But her… her hands aren't the only thing holding me close…

Her legs are sliding across the grass, moving away from her kneeled position. They're going forward, around me, encircling me. In an almost tickling sensation, I can feel the legs slowly rise up my own legs, past my waist, stopping only just around my gut. Each one tightens around me, knitting themselves around me. Her waist slowly starts to move closer to my own, beckoning me closer to her, as if even a single breath of air between us is too much room. She wants me this closer to her, she wants me to be a part of her. I love dealing with this. I love knowing this.

I let my own arms move groaning form, letting one of my hands travel up the back of her neck, playing the light blonde roots they find. Each one of my fingers works its way up her neck, guiding the other with light traces across her delicate skin. When I reach the blonde ties of her hair, I let them explore the same way she is doing in mine. Tangling each long strand around my fingers, enjoying even the idea that I can hold every piece of Maka close to me. My other holds the small of her back, holding her as close to me as she'll allow. But no matter how hard a pull her, she only holds me tighter with her legs. She has gotten so close to me that I can almost her stomach with my hand, wrapped around her so tight as I am. But one of her hands that has been working through my hair, the bare one, the one that she showed me, the one that had nothing hiding her from me, has reach through to my face, lightly poking at my check. Her finger leaves ripples across my face with each retraction of her digits.

Her body is growing so hot against my own. How can she deal with being so hot? Wouldn't it be uncomfortable to be that hot in her black coat? Maybe she can't deal with it, maybe I'm keeping her from taking it off… I should help her with that. Yes, if… if she doesn't want to deal with being so hot, I should help cool her off, and taking off her clothes would be the first thing to do when your hot…

My hand that was once just working through her hair comes down lower, grabbing at the collar of her black jacket, hooking my fingers around the dark material. I don't know why, but my hands are shaking as I pull against the fabric, trembling horribly. Her white undershirt is damp, wet, moist, soggy, dripping. It's clinging so hard to her coat, I don't know if she wants it off… But she is only getting hotter against me… Taking the jacket of would help her, and I always want to help Maka…

Slowly, hesitantly, I pull more and more of the material off of her, peeling the fabric off of her damp under clothing. She moans again as the cool night air slowly seeps between the two articles of clothing, rumbling the chords my lips are currently wrapped around. A pleasant trembling vibrates through my entire form with each breath she releases. Even my teeth are trembling, fangs still within her neck. It's slow, but I can feel her hands uncurling themselves from my hair. Was she done? Did I do something wrong? Did I go too far? Maybe she didn't want to take off her jacket that would make her mad at me! I can't deal with Maka being mad at me! But… no… no she's not mad. I feel shoulders shrug back, her right arm moving slightly against my head. More and more of her heavy dark jacket falls off, slipping past her arms and falling to the ground below.

I don't know how it happened, but I know I can deal with it. She's guiding me down on top of her jacket, her hands once again around me head. All of her weight is slowly going back, forcing me to follow her. The way she's falling, how slow it is, I'm holding her up as she goes back. Her arms and legs are still holding me as tight as before, pushing every part of her against. When she is finally against the ground, with the cover of her jacket keeping her from the grass, a pleasant sigh rolls from her lips, and I almost don't know how to deal with it. It has the most heavenly tone to it, vibrating every pleasing piece of me, almost like it's calling me. But… But it also sounds so… so… immoral... so… demanding. It's less like a call, and more like a demand for me to continue, and urging that I never thought I'd hear or feel from Maka, my Maka… Is this my Maka?

Releasing my mouth from her neck, with one last swipe of my tongue for that wonderful fluid, I raise my head to look at her. My pink locks block my vision hanging over my eyes. I move my behind Maka, ready to move the strands of hair that are blocking me from seeing my angel. But I stop. Not because I don't want to see, she the only person that I want to see more than anyone else. It's because my hair is already moving, pulling upwards and disappearing from my vision. I can't deal with my hair moving myself, who could do deal with that? But then I see it, the thing that is moving my hair, and I freeze altogether.

Maka's hand, her ungloved completely free hand, is brushing my pink locks letting her look at me, and me look at her. I… I wouldn't want to look at me. My eyes are red and slit, or so I'm told. My skin is pale and dying, or so I'm told. My face is bloodied and smeared, that I know. But still she looks at me, and I look at her. I can't believe it's her.

Her face is flushed red, an intoxicating shade of red that lightens her cheeks and contrasts with her eyes in a sharp, but still beautiful way. Sweat is beading on her skin, collecting in large drops as they slowly slide down her flesh, collecting on the black cloak beneath her, the white collar just below her, or the many strands of her blonde hair that are sprawled around her. Her hair… she looks like a true angel with her hair like that. I don't know how, and I can't barely deal with not knowing how, but her hair has come undone from her usual pig-ties, moving swirling around her lain form now. Like she was just washed ashore from the ocean, carried out as precious as a pearl from the inside of a clam, she lays before me now. And she still has the angelic smile on her face, the smile that I want to see for the rest of my life. That smile… I love that smile with all that I am, and all that I was…

I… I wonder how it would taste? Why am I getting hotter?

Her blood tastes so… amazing, and I feel myself demanding more just at the thought of it, but what would her smile taste like? It sends me into a flutter, makes me squirm with joy on the spot, and feel warmer and more complete than her blood did. So… so would I feel really complete if I did taste it? Would she be okay with that? If I'm wrong, Maka will only get mad at me. I don't know how to deal with an angry Maka. But… But maybe she'll be okay with it. She wanted me to take off her jacket. Maybe… Maybe she'll let me taste her too. I… I can try… So I do.

Hesitantly as I can, my hand moves away from the back of her head, laying my palm on the grass just above where her black cloak begins. It's damp, only a little wet, maybe from dew… But I don't know. I don't care. All I'm seeing, all I care about, is the sweet smile of my angel. I'm getting closer to her now, slowly still, nervous that she'll tell me it's too far, that I should stop, that this is all so very wrong. Maybe it is, maybe I know it is, but… but I can't help it. Not when I look at Maka… But… but I stop myself again, just inches from her face, hovering above her. She's looking up at me still, still with that heavenly smile, still with that look that I would die to keep alive… die again to keep alive. I'm looking at it, I'm looking at her… but I don't know what to do. This… This is all too real… to impossible to be real.

"I-Is this r-real?" I ask from above her with my trembling lips. I'm scared. I'm so scared that this isn't real, that this will all disappear so soon, so quickly and never come back. What will I do if that happens? I can't lose this, I can't lose Maka, not again. Never again. But… But she's moving even closer to me, so close that all I can see are her eyes, those peaceful gloriously green eyes. They're half lidded, closed just enough that she can see me, almost as if she's about to go to sleep. Is she tired? Am I making her sleepy? Is that bad? It is night, and you're supposed to sleep at ni… nigh…

She's kissing me.

Her eyes are closed, but I don't care. She's pulled me into an embrace with her legs, arms, and I think even her soul, but I don't care. The little of her skin that is exposed is pushing against every part of my own pale flesh, far harder than anything else I've ever felt outside of a fight before, but I don't care. I can't care, don't care, can't even think of dealing with anything else right now. Just what she is doing to me. What Maka, my Maka, my angel, is doing so… lustfully to me… I almost, _almost_, can't deal with it. But it's Maka who's kissing me. So… So I can definitely deal with it.

I let my tongue entwine with hers, tasting the inside of her mouth. It's nothing that I can describe. I can only remember it being better than any food I've ever eaten, better than any thing I've ever drank, and definitely better than her blood. I let go of her tongue, tracing the inside of her mouth. Every tooth, each cheek, the roof, and the base of her mouth. Each part is so different, so great, so much better than every part that came before it. I was right, her mouth tastes so much better than her blood. Even as she holds just as tightly as ever, and I hold her as well, I can't think to let any sense be used more than taste. I want to taste every part of her. It's all so… heavenly, so perfect.

My hands move off the grass, letting my elbows support my weight. I don't want to hurt Maka, but I do, I really do, want to get closer to her. They roll under her head, lifting it closer to my own, letting feel eve more of her. No matter how much of her I have, it still isn't enough. I don't know, but I think she giggles into my mouth, laughing into me. Does that mean she's making me happy? Yes, but I she does that without laughing on me. Maybe I'm tickling her? Is that bad? Will that ruin this? Maybe… but it hasn't yet, and I don't want it to.

Her tongue starts to trace my fangs, looping through and around them. I feel her, and that tickles. Without thinking I clench my jaw, still so nervous about this. So much can go wrong, I can ruin everything. Her tongue slips under one of my fangs, and I taste the blood. Her blood insider her mouth, me tasting both at the same time. I have never felt, tasted, or experienced anything better than this. I don't think I can deal with anything else other than this. I wish that this would never end.

My wish never comes.

A blow, a horrible, strong, vicious, merciless, awful, damning blow, connects with my head. I fly from Maka's warmth, he comfort, her passion, her love with that blow, landing, impacting instead against the cold, unforgiving, uncompassionate trunk of a tree, falling to the dew wet grass just beneath it. I hear something snap and I hear Maka scream. The scream worries more than anything else. Why is she screaming? Was she screaming for me? Was she in danger? I was attacked… she is in danger? So I ignore the loss of the warmth, the loss of the passion, the loss of that heavenly feeling, looking from my lain position to where Maka was. She's still there, but she's not alone. There is someone above her, dressed in a dark suit, fists clenched, and eyes looking down at me.

Looking up, I see a face that makes me turn with fear. His red hair hangs down across his face, hiding it in shadows that I can just so barely see through. The way they lock and fall together makes it look nothing less than hanging meat, flesh from a fresh kill. Green Eyes look at me with none of the peace, none of the love, none of the compassion that I so enjoy receiving from Maka's own. His mouth in hung in a menacing grin that reminds me so much like mo- like Medusa's when I make a mistake, ready to hit me, punish me, lock me away without food for doing wrong, for betraying her. Did I betray him? Did I hurt him? Is he going to hurt me? Yes, yes, yes! I did all those thing to him! I know who he is, I know exactly who he is, and I fear him more than I did Lord Death just hours ago. Then he says something, a single sentence, a question that makes me scream inside myself, begging anything that can hear me mind cry for help. It damned more than any words or actions of even Medusa.

"What are you doing to my daughter, monster?"

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

While the love of two was interrupted by the family of other, another soul close to the two was not so far away. Walking the streets he had done for so long the past day and night, he wondered to himself why his home eluded him so, what pushed him from his home just steps away from the door to walk around this dead empty night? He was alone now, but he preferred alone. His thoughts were better when silent, better when no one asked him questions for guidance, for advice, for direction. Better when he could decide, then lead. Now, he was deciding where to go.

His very soul kept him from his home, but no part, mind, body, or soul, knew where to go. Simply away from the home, searching the streets for something that he couldn't name. Just so recently was he searching with the wisdom he hid so well, knowing what he was looking for. Now, now he searched for something foreign, but not even an idea of where to start. There was no one to question, no thoughts to reflect on, no memories to give him pause. It was a mystery he knew existed by feeling alone, and that was it.

He hated it.

Before he could walk through the mystery, knowing the next step to take based on the one he just took. Ask the question, follow the answer, read the book, go to the location. It was a step by step process that he knew how to follow. The road may be long at times, but it was never false. Any lies he found along the way he was able to avoid. Any deceit that was meant to derail him he found out. He was not one to be easily confused, easily led away. Even on the field of battle did he know the proper path for finishing the enemy. The steps, the movements, the strategy, the guide. Every enemy had a weakness, a chink in the otherwise great strength, and he knew how to counteract it. Even the great skill that some enemies bolster with their head count and age means nothing if they are attacked properly and quickly. An ambush can defeat a great many of enemies. But this… this mystery, this unspoken question… he had no idea what to do with it.

No matter what corner he turned down the roads of Death's City, or how many glances he took to the bleeding smile of the moon above, no hint nor whisper was offered for him to go on. He had nothing to work off of, and that was more than annoying. After so much good that had happened today, after learning of something so great, so amazing, so unreal that he cared little more than anything else in the moment of, being forced to stay awake by nothing more than his own mind was nothing less than aggravating. He had worried about enough for so long, taking care of someone dear to him while they suffered worse than he, searching for something he knew would bring only misery, if closure at all. But then it was found with glory, with joy, with happiness and love, and he was glad he had endured all that pain and suffering from the week before. Now… now he was searching for something else, and he didn't want to search for it.

How would he even know when he found it? Would it talk to him about some important he had to perform? Would it lead him to some grand discovery that would top even Chrona's reappearance? Would it do anything at all? He had no idea and that was what was annoying him. He had no idea at all.

But there had to be something… anything to go on. His mind, his soul, would not force him to do these things without at least an instinct of something being needed. Someone could be in trouble far away. A kishin could have appeared that would need to be exterminated. Even a kitten in a tree might bring some sort of semblance to his currently nagging mind. Whatever it was… he was starting to lose his patience over it, ready to scream for this supposed mystery to solve itself, or leave him alone so he could sleep for the hours he deserved. But… he never got the chance.

Someone else screamed instead.

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"The hell?" I let the words slip as I face the direction of the cry. It wasn't a shout, but definitely a scream. A different pitch than just a scream of fright. It carried longer, held a higher tone, lowering itself slowly as if making sure it was heard from far away. A scream of fright would be quick and consecutive, a combination of the body's need for oxygen and mind's need to shout. This was different. It was consecutive, but it carried more, and I know I'm not the only one to hear it. This qualified as a scream of fright, but also… also a as a cry, a scream of sorrow.

I see a few windows light up alone the street, only a few among the many dozen that line and tower the streets, but only a few is all I need to know that I am not dripping into madness. But that scream, that scream is a scream I know. I've heard it before, just a few times, from a different person each time. I heard it from Marie when I attacked a few students decades ago. I heard it from a witch when I aided a friend in becoming a Death Scythe. And I heard it from a young girl no more than a year ago when… That was Maka who cried then, but now… now it was someone else.

I don't have time to think whom. I just need to know where. I heard it's direction, and I can search for it with that at least. But I need to be quick. Afterall, there is a very good chance this is the mystery my soul so deeply wants to me to find, solve, and maybe even dissect. I'd like that.

A street passes me, and I see more lights. More lights means a louder sound. That means I'm getting closer, I'm heading the right way. The more lights I see means the more people are waking up, which means the louder the sound. When I see fewer lights ahead of me, I'll know when to turn. And it happens faster than I suspected, just another street down, just two blocks, and I see the lights begin to recede in multitude, fewer windows lit by waking souls. So it was between the streets? No, it was just behind a building.

I pivot mid-run, forcing my weight in the direction I turn. It carries my weight, minimizing the loss of speed, allowing me to reach the mystery faster. The faster I get to it, the fresher it will be, and the easier it will be to dissect… to solve. The alley is dark, but narrow, no side alleys or small corridors to have to turn to. But that make sense. Such a scream would have to be in the open. It may echo well in an alley, but it would die before it made it to the streets, and I heard it well over two streets away. That means it's just beyond this alley, on or just past the next road I approach. But I know that road.

It's the small garden that the younger meister's and weapons train in. The kids too small to possibly be ready to tackle a rat let alone a kishin. But it's purpose was meant less for training, and more for socializing, for familiarizing, for connecting. It's where a lot of meisters and weapons first meet, giving each other their promise of a future. Is that where the scream came from? I hope not, otherwise, I really will have to dissect the person that made such a scream come from a place that I met Marie at. Just another turn and I'll be there, I'll see this mystery that pulled at me without my soul's consent. Just beyond the cover of the building, past the alley, and I'll see it. Corner just ahead, I raise my hand out of stride, letting it brush against the stone-wall. When I reach the corner, I give a push, letting me move a bit faster, a further into the street. The garden is just before me, and with the number of windows now lit, I can tell this is where the scream came from. And I see three figures in the garden. One on the ground, in front of a tree, on his side as he was brutally hit. The other two are together, one huddles against another tree head facing up to the third figure, who was facing the first with a stance I knew well. A stance I knew… just too well… I know who that is.

"Spirit!" I shout his name before anything else happens. And I'm lucky. I see form move with his name facing me now. The moon should have been enough, but the cover of the trees made it difficult. It was only with the few windows on the buildings behind me, and the few that were visible from the small garden that let me see his face. A face I had seen played by him many times, but seriously made so few.

Pure anger. Pure hate. Pure rage.

It catches me off guard, making my muscles flinch under the unexpected gaze of my long time weapon. I've seen that face many times before. I've seen it on the faces of twisted Kishin before their demise, a few witches in their moments of defeat, and many of my allies after horrendous news was given. But for Spirit to show such a face, a face I haven't seen since our battle together against Medusa, surprises me. But I can't stay shocked forever. This is a very tender situation. It needs a careful hand to… dissect it.

"Spirit." I say his name again, forcing my own face to not rise. The calmer I am, the easier it will be to calm him down. Fire cannot burn fire. "Are you alright?"

"Hell no!" He shouts it louder than I expected, and I hear more than a few of the lit windows open. "That monster was attacking my sweet Maka." His fist points violently towards the first figure, collapsed still on the ground, huddling into itself. I can't see it well, too many shadows made from the branches of the trees, stronger only from the windows' lights. I doubt it is a monster, at least I doubt a monster could possibly take hold of Maka in such a way. She is a strong girl, and I would love to see what makes her tick deep inside that body of hers. So more than likely, this 'monster' was just an unfortunate boy that… boy… no…

The realization is slow, but I do recognize the voice of the cry now. It's the voice I thought was dead, the voice I thought I would never care for again, the voice Marie and I agreed to watch, nurture, and grow. The voice of a boy who was tortured all his life, the cry of a body that was terrified and scared. I heard that voice before, just a few times before, but enough for me to know who that cry belonged to, and now I know why my soul forced me into this night, why I was meant to search for a mystery I didn't know. Because this boy was here, and he needed me.

"Chrona?" I say his name with the same ire and voice that I spoke to Spirit with. On reflection, that was a bad idea. His form moves, dark and unviewable as before, but I know that he is curling in further on himself. Though I've never done it, I know that action all too well.

He's afraid. He's terrified.

"Hey Chrona." I say as softly as I can, aiming to put a smile on my face. With every step I take to him, slowly and unthreatening, I remind myself what I can't do. I just can't think of anything about dissecting, mutilating, disfiguring, or maiming, and I should be able to give a gentle smile. If he sees me psychotic, sees what I enjoy, than I may lose him. And if I lose him, I'll… I'll do something to Spirit that will make our childhood days seem like blessings of heaven.

"Are you alright Chrona? Does anything hurt?" I kneel down, as I get close to him, still only barely able to make out only the smallest details. His hair hides most of his face, and his black dress hides almost everything else. But I see his hands, and I see them gripping each arm with enough strength to break bone. Terrified doesn't cover just how scared he is. I can imagine Maka is much the same way. From my entrance till now, she has not said a word, still huddled against the tree just behind Spirit. Though I imagine she is watching this all so closely, it cannot be thought of as impossible that she has forgotten to grab the courage that killed a Kishin beneath the shock of the situation.

I shouldn't be the one doing this. It should be Marie. All I can do is sit and wonder just what his muscles might look like now that he's already died once, wonder if I can physically remove the sorrow from his soul, wondering violent things to an already shattered mind. Maka is perfect for this. But asking her to come over here now would only further insight Spirit's rage. Right now, he's thinking that I am terrifying Chrona, hurting him in the ways that I so enjoy. But no, I cannot, I will not, hurt Chrona. He needs to know that. Maybe… maybe physical contact… Lightly though, too hard and it would feel threatening. I can't have that, not at all.

My arm reaches out for him, setting on his shoulder with the care I would give Marie. He clenches his arms harder, huddling his face deeper to his chest. He must really think I'm going to hurt him. Can't blame him, most people think I'm going to hurt them even when sane. But I can't stop. I can't give up. I just need to find a way to dissect this, find out how I can help him.

"Chrona," I say his name again, as lightly as possible. "It's me, Dr. Stein." Still nothing, just more hiding. "I'm not here to take you apart…" That may have been the wrong thing to say, judging by the shiver I feel through my hand. "I'm here to help you, just like I promised. Remember?" Somewhere in there I said the right word. I'm not sure what, but I know it was right.

His shivering ceases, slowly calming from my words. The pink head begins to rise, spots of his pale white skin illuminated under the moon's soft glow, and the many windows' harsh lights. But the red stands out far worse, far more harsh, than the white. I saw before where this red comes from, at least from under the curse that he has. He's silently crying in that fearful position of his, hiding the pain the only way he knows how. I do wonder how he cries his own blood. Did the curse remove his tear ducts for a direct path to his carotid artery, or perhaps his Basilar artery instead? That is closer to the eyes than the carotid. I would only need a small pee-

'_NO!_' I shake my head the thought, only slightly. I can't have him thinking that I falsely fear him. I can't think such plea- such awful thoughts right now. This fragile situation cannot be damaged any further. He's so close now, looking at me hopefully with those curiously colored… sorrowful red eyes. He's so close to believing me, to avoiding falling into that pit of sorrow and madness that I enjoy… once enjoyed resting within. I cannot have him fall into that. I cannot and will not. I place my other hand on his opposite shoulder, placing myself only a small amount above him. Then I perform an action that I had done to him not even a few hours ago.

I hug him.

I care so very little about the blood, so little that I cannot even entertain the idea of taking it apart. All I know is the care that this tortured boy need, the child that is so close to me in being raised, and so alike me in distance to falling off the edge. I am his elder, I am his guardian, and I will take any action necessary to let him, let all, know that. It's hard for me to be rash in choices, but I care little for the attention they grab. Dissecting my classmates, attacking students, they were not actions that I deem rash. They were calculated thought out actions, things that I wanted to know about. The attention, however was never good. But from then till now, I never cared. I do care, however, about the words that Spirit so poorly chooses to say.

"Don't **TOUCH** that thing Stein!" Without restraint, I feel the anger flow through me at his words. Looking to him, glasses hiding my eyes with the glare from the many windows' lights, I know well the face I give. It is the manic smile I so enjoy to wear. It feels natural, form fitting on my face, just as simple as the ideas of ripping each finger off of Spirit's hands and slowly reattaching them in and odd order. He shouldn't say those words.

I see the surprise on his face, even with just the few details that I can make out. His scowl is still set, but his eyes are wide, no longer banged with misplaced anger and false rage. Good. He knows what I enjoy, he knows just how much I'll love to torture and examine him. Even if I know every part of him, I'll still love the idea of finding something new, something I've missed before. Maybe I'll even find the reason for his stupidity and improper rashness. But I am different from him. I think, I plan, I deduce, and then I move. Instincts are meant for battles of fists, battles of words, however, are ruled by logic and reason. Madness has little place other than to intimidate. All I need to do is smile for Spirit. However… he is not the only one listening to my words and watching my actions. With a twist of my head, odd-angled and terrifying as I hope it to be, I address the many citizens who are watching with wide eyes at our scene.

"I apologize to you all for this disturbance. Please, go back to sleep, and think nothing of this." The chuckle leaves my throat before I can stop it. But with the result it earns, I'm quite glad I didn't. For a moment, the people who I lay eyes on shiver at the sight of me, the cold chill I so enjoy watching crawl up subjects' spines before an operation occurs. When it passes, every window shuts, and lights turned off, faster than I had anticipated, but nothing I will remark against. A small tug comes at my chest, something pulling at my grey stitched shirt. I don't need to look to know that it's Chrona seeking refuge. He did it so often to Marie and Maka, I shouldn't be surprised. He is strong and he is gifted, but that witch of nature and bitch of a mother tortured him till he could never grow. The refuge of another's arms is something he's never had, and I know why Maka and Marie love to offer it to him. It really does melt you heart, knowing he depends on you. For him to depend on me, someone who fell to the madness of Asura so easiliy, is almost comical. But for now, I need to hide that happiness, let it sit hidden in my soul for just a moment.

I need Spirit scared.

Looking to him again, a face no different the one I had when I danced with Medusa at Shinigami's ball, I begin to speak again.

"That 'thing' Spirit," I say with my manic smile still wide, still entertaining the thoughts of looking further into Stein's already dissected body, "is under my care, my protection, and my wing. He is, by accounts of Lord Death, something not far different than what Maka is to you." My hands still holding Chrona, knowing that we both face my past weapon, I say the words that I know will shock him beyond the core of his soul.

"He is my son."

* * *

**Author's Note: **A second author's note? Yeah, cause I didn't want to spoil anything above. Anyways, please review this to let me know if it is still alright. It seems I'm having more and more trouble writing these chapters, if the length of time between updates isn't obvious enough. And Stein, oh God, he was so hard to write…


	11. Chapter 11: Exit

**Author's Note:** Kay, so I got the reviews I expected from the last chapter. No one thought I did bad, which is good, but it wasn't as high as the few chapters that came before. I also got a review I didn't expect, saying that it was journeying into Twilight territory, saying that I should make Chrona and Maka into a Bella and Edward relationship.

HELL NO!

First of all, I love the mythology of vampires, so I'm not going to make them pussy dolls like Twilight does. They are LIVING DEAD, they cannot eat besides blood, they cannot drink besides blood, they weaken, not die, in the sunlight, they cannot cross open water, they sleep enclosed spaces to silence the world around them, they turn away from all signs of the cross or holy artifacts, they CAN control you with manipulations of desire and lust, and they CANNOT GET YOU PREGNANT. I'm sorry if anyone was expecting me to do that, but seriously? Did I not make this story dark and angst enough that you think that was possible? Yes Maka and Chrona are in a relationship, if unspoken, but you'll have to see how that progresses. If you want to know the kind of vampires I'm using, watch the original _Hellsing Anime_ or the ground breaking movie, _Let Me In_. Those are the two most properly used interpretations of vampires I've found for modern times. People telling me that this is going overly romantic is probably a good thing, it tells me that I need to start chipping away at that lovey dove feeling and start putting in the mileage of angst and depression that I originally thought up with this story.

Bottoms up lads.

* * *

I'm crying. I know why I'm crying. It's impossible for someone to not cry at a time like this. I was just so happy, so fulfilled so complete… How did it turn out like this so quickly? Why did my Papa have to intervene, why did he have to call Chrona a monster? I couldn't help the tears that came to my eyes then, and hearing Chrona scream because of it, my voice must have been cried out through my tears. Why did Papa have to hurt him so badly like that? Stupid Papa!

But then Dr. Stein was there, he was calming my father down. I could just see him through the shadows, but he was right in front of Chrona, helping him, holding him, being kind to him. My manic teacher was being kind to sweet, innocent Chrona. Now Dr. Stein is here, and he is defending Chrona. I'm glad for that, I'm really really happy for it. But Papa, he keeps calling Chrona a… a thing, a monster… Stupid Papa!

Then he said those words to my Papa, the words that I heard Mrs. Marie say only just a little bit ago, even thought it feels like days have passed. Calling Chrona his kin, his son, his child. And I'm so happy that I'm still crying. He's just like Mrs. Marie, he does really care for Chrona, he does really care about what happens to him. He does love Chrona, and he is willing to protect him. I'm not alone in wanting to keep him safe. Unlike my Papa…

Stupid, stupid, stupid Papa!

"He's… He's your son?" My stupid Papa seems caught on the words, and I'm still stuck on them too. I've never Dr. Stein show such affection for someone before, not even to Mrs. Marie. Then again, I've never seen Mrs. Marie in trouble like Chrona is. But he's defending Chrona, he's saving him from my idiot Papa. I can't tell anymore if I'm crying for joy, shock, or sorrow. All I know and all I care about is Chrona, how he is holding himself still, still afraid to let go, but falling into Dr. Stein's loose embrace with ease. That's something more than I expected, and something that I'm still so happy to see. He's realizing his curse isn't to be kept alone.

"Yes he is. Not by blood, of course, but I care for him as much as you do for Maka." For the first time in all my life, as terrified as I just was by my father, I find my relief coming from that manic smile of Dr. Stein, that wide white toothed smile that leaves even the most prepared of enemies terrified of what they are going to face. The first time I saw that… he was marking my body for where to replace my skin with sandpaper. I always hated that smile ever since then. Now though… now he's using it to protect Chrona, to keep him safe from my stupid Papa's idiocy. I'm glad for that smile.

"Stein, give me a break!" Papa shouts that, but I can tell he's still afraid. Good, I want him to be afraid. "That… that thing was on top of my precious Maka!"

"Then they feel a special connection between them and they were working it out physically. Is that any different than how approach most of the women in this city?" That smile just seems better and better to me with every passing word he says. Even Chrona is feeling more relieved with the defending words Dr. Stein is giving him, placing him apart from anything he could possibly think is wrong. His words throw my Papa off, making him take a step back as if that were some horrible accusation we all already didn't know.

"That i-i-i-i-is an shameful thing to say Stein! Who would really believe I would do such a thing?" Stupid Papa… Silently, I raise my hand beside him, letting Chrona and Dr. Stein know full well just what I thought of my Papa. Hopefully he'll see it too. From the way he's still looking at Dr. Stein, with fear filled eyes, I know he won't.

"Regardless of what world you think you're living in Spirit, when you talk about Chrona in any manner, you're no longer sitting in the clouds of your world…" As he's talking, one of Dr. Stein's hands raises itself to the bolt in his head, twisting the metallic item. Each click that it makes chips away at my own courage like the seconds before an execution. Knowing what will come when the time is up, and anticipating it with an immoral amount of joy. His hand takes one last twist backwards and then releases the metallic item, placing itself back on Chrona's slowly calming shoulders. Smile still wide, he finished the sentence he spoke to my Papa.

"You have entered mine, where wonder comes from dissection and joy emanates from gore. Keep those words in mind, old friend."

I'm shivering at the words and I wish I could say it was from joy, but I can't deny the cold aura that his soul is forcing down around him. That manic smile and twisted habit are a poor façade to the seriousness to which he has spoken to my Papa. But if anyone knows Dr. Stein well, it would be my Papa, and right now, that is good. He knows Dr. Stein is serious, that he will do just that. From the step I see him take back, I know he gets the message, and it makes me only happier. He won't ruin Chrona's happiness now.

"F-F-Fine." He stutters out the surrender, clear panic in his eyes. "Just take i-him…" He catches himself raising a hand like Dr. Stein is going to throw a scalpel at him. I can't help but to entertain the thought. From the smile Dr. Stein is giving Papa, I know he is too.

"Good then. Well Chrona," he says looking down at the sweet innocent youth. "I'm sure Marie is wondering by now where we both are. Are you ready to come home?" He's still smiling down at Chrona, but… but it's not the same smile he gave my father. They both are genuine smiles, but they couldn't be called anywhere near the same. I know from both experience and logic that he put all of his madness and anger into that grin he gave my father, but I see nothing but warmth and sincerity in his smile now. He really does see past the curse that Chrona is being force to bear. It gives me nothing but relief to know that, to know that I'm not the only one who wants to help him this time.

My Papa's hand on my shoulder distracts me from watching Chrona. I shrug it to shake him off. He hurt Chrona, and he hurt me. I don't want him to think for even a moment that any single part of this was done for anyone's best interest but his own. Stupid Papa… why can't he just-

"What's that on your neck sweetheart?" He speaks the question with the same high tone he always gives me, but the words he asks freeze me. I already know what he's talking about, and I already know what will happen if he finds out.

"N-Nothing Papa." I try and dismiss him. "Just some dirt from my fall." My head turns away from him completely when I say, knowing from plenty of prior experience just how dejected it will make him feel. Somehow, no amount of tears he shed, crocodile or otherwise, seem like enough to forgive him for this. So brutally attacking innocent Chrona, he could just jump into the desert for all I care. Just-

I freeze. His hands are grabbing at my white shirt collar pulling it down till my collarbone is freed to the cool night air. It's takes me just a second, but now I know what he's talking about. He's not looking at the dirt, or my sweat, or even just another one of his sick excuses to see me.

He's looking at where Chrona bit me.

I turn my head to look at Papa's face ready to tell him just how wrong he is. Whatever he's thinking about, I know he's wrong. He's going to think Chrona was really forcing himself on me that Chrona was trying to mark me as his, giving some extreme sign of a hickey. Even if it's true, it's not what he thinks. I can't have him say it, I can't have him say it!

"Papa!" I yell before he even begins to turn, but for once, my words meet deaf ears.

"Stein!" He yells to Dr. Stein. He stops and turns, Chrona clinging to his white jacket with equally pale knuckles. If nothing else good comes out of this, I'm happy to know that someone else is an anchor for Chrona.

"What is the problem Spirit? It isn't appropriate to yell so loudly at night like that. Did you lose control of your vocal chords? I can fix that if you like." He finishes his icy threat with a manic grin that never fails to make my bones shiver. Normally, I would expect my Papa to cower under Dr. Stein's manic words and threats, but now… nothing. Not a flinch, nod, or even a blink. He… He must really be furious. I can't let this happen. I just can't.

"Papa!" I call his name again, standing up to better grab at his arm than some useless damsel on the ground. "It isn't like that, I promise." If he just looks at me, I'll be able to get him to stop, at least for now, and that's all we'll need. But he isn't looking at me, he isn't even registering that I'm here. His eyes are still burning at the sight of Dr. Stein. But what I'm afraid is what he's really looking at. I'm afraid that he has hate for Chrona. Please don't let that be true.

"You!" He points an accusing finger to Chrona, causing the poor boy to grab at Dr. Stein's cloak even harder, hiding behind the much taller man. "Why did you bite my daughter?" And I felt my world shake.

Dr. Stein's cool façade fell and shattered on the ground, showing a look that can only be called what is was, morbid shock. The grin he wore vanished for a frown, cloud covered eyes widened in shock, maybe fear, and his arm around Chrona was removed. Of all that I have seen, that was the most painful to watch. Chrona's own face was no different than what I had seen when I had seen him take his own mother's arrow for me. Not pained, not horrified, just… shocked. The horrid kind of shock that someone has when a gun goes off, the kind of shock a citizen has when they first see a Kishin. Not pleasant, not joyful, not even a jolt. Just shock, the empty portal that I know will lead into horrid emotions. Why?

"What… What are you saying Spirit? That Chrona just attacked Maka off the street?" At least Dr. Stein is still defending Chrona, letting me know I'm not alone in supporting him. "Medically alone, Maka is exhibiting no sings of trauma to any force. She has no avoidance of eye-contact, no speech impediments, no shyness to touch, aside from you of course, but that is nothing new. Simply, I doubt your claim that Chrona forced anything on Maka." Yes, YES! I never thought I'd be so happy to have the manic doctor be here more than Mrs. Marie. But my Papa still isn't flinching in the slightest. I've… I've only seen him this angry once before… when he and Mama got divorced…

"Stein! Did you not hear what I said? Is that screw too tight in your head?" I gasp at the words. A hand flies to my mouth as well. I'm not the only one who is surprised by my Papa either, because I see Dr. Stein raising a hand to the bolt in his head, giving it a few turns under my father's near demonic glare. That's how I know Chrona isn't bad. He never looks at me, or anyone, like that. But he isn't done, he's far from it, to my horror.

"There is a BITE mark on my precious daughter's neck!" His finger whips to me as he says it. Under his accusation, under his voice, I feel anything but being his precious daughter. "Not a tick, not a hickey, not even a small mark of bruising! There's a PUNCTURE! There is BLOOD! I don't care HOW it happened, it DID happen!"

Dr. Stein was silent for the longest time, and Chrona hid behind him again. He was no longer holding his white jacket, but his own arms again, the same way he did whenever he was alone, or thinking, or nervous, or wondering, or scared, or unable to deal with something. This… this is a combination of all those feeling for him, or so I imagine. Despite the volume of Papa's voice, I didn't see anyone open a window, or any lights turn on, but I wouldn't be surprised if they started to, or if some people already were watching. But it's not what I see, it's what I hear. Because for a time, all I can hear is Dr. Stein's bolt twisting and clicking. His eye hidden beneath the glare of his glasses, smoke from his cigar rising in front of his face, white bangs hanging over his forehead. I don't know what he's thinking of doing, I only hope it isn't going to harm Chrona. As long as he continues to protect Chrona, I don't care what he does to harm me, or damn me, or blame me even.

"We… We should go see Lord Death."

Dr. Stein speaks those words so cold. Not the cold manner by which he passes serious threats, but… like he was dead, like he's resigned himself to fail at this. That's not how a parent should say that! At least my Papa defends me, no matter how perverted or stupid he is. So why isn't Dr. Stein defending Chrona? Why is he just letting this be handled by Lord Death again? Maybe I was wrong, maybe I am the only one who can care for Chrona. I look at that innocent pink haired youth, and I realize he's thinking the same thing.

He's slowly moving away from Dr. Stein, hands still gripped on his arms with the same nervous habit he's always had. I don't know how I know, but I do know what he is thinking. He's scared, he's terrified, and more than anything else, he's sorry. He's thinking that this is all his fault, that this is nothing but a cause of his very existence. Thinking that just being alive is a sin so horrifying that he must be continually dragged away from what little happiness he is able to feel. I don't want that. I never wanted that. Even when we first met, and he was nothing more than an enemy, all I saw was someone to beat. I never wanted him to feel like this, and now more than ever, I want to make him feel something else other than that. I want him to hope, to believe, to be thankful, to smile, to give me that rare genuine smile that melts my core and warms my cheeks. That's the smile that I want to see again, that's the Chrona that I want back. And I'm about to move to him, despite the arm my father has on me, move to embrace him and tell him just how little what he thinks is true, how false the illusion of abandonment is. But before I can, Dr. Stein speaks again.

"Chrona," he says in that oddly warm voice, the voice I have only heard him speak a handful of times before, "I don't think you're guilty of anything. Not at all. I'd sooner let Lord Death take my head than even offer yours. This is just to prove to that idiot over there that none of this is your fault." His hand stretches out to the quivering cursed life, gentler than the surgeon's hand has ever been before. For a time, he just stays like that, waiting for Chrona to reach out and grasp the hand that is offered, accepting a way back into the warmth and protection he was just so happy to embrace.

Tentatively, like an injured lamb before the shepherd, Chrona reached his hand out to Dr. Stein, letting his hand guide over the top of our teacher. Not touching, hovering, thinking even if he can trust Dr. Stein, wondering if he can trust him. I don't know if he should, but Dr. Stein has been defending him well enough up till now, and I know he isn't one to stop just because of something my stupid Papa said. If he doesn't then I'll… I'll still defend him, but I want him to take Dr. Stein's hand. That way, he won't be alone.

Slowly though, their hands meet and Stein flexes his fingers around Chrona's much smaller hand. He has that smile again. The genuine smile that I've never seen him have before. I don't love that smile, but I'm glad for it, glad to know that someone else is giving Chrona those kind of smiles, that kind of kindness. That is enough if only for now, enough to know Chrona will be loved.

"Well…" he says standing up, looking to my Papa with the manic grin I fear, but holding Chrona's hand tenderly, "Let's finish this menial task."

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

The night was nearly dead.

Already the sun began to show its glow on the horizon, highlighting the rims of the clouds that hid the stars. The moon's blood dripping smile slowly began to vanish opposite the rising sun, its eye watching Death City till its final moments. Only so few were ever awake at this time. The students who pulled all-nighters, the workers who wanted to impress their employers, the adventures setting out at the breaking day, they all had activities to do, things they loved to do or loved to finish. Among the this small crowd of people, the aliens to those who held the earliest of hours dear, were four individuals that had nothing but contempt for the task they had to do. The four of them, the Manic Doctor, the protective father, the cursed swordsman, and the caring guardian, all hated what they were about to do.

Speak to Lord Death.

None of them hated the benevolent leader of Death City. In fact, it was hard to say anyone who held faiths similar to his own could dislike him. So jovial at even the most serious of times, his very presence a ward against the strongest of evils throughout the world, and training meisters and weapons alike to protect the world they hold dear. Unless you dreamed of destroying his domain, of tampering with his affairs, or for crafting demons from souls, it was a hard task to hate the head of Death City, and none of the four thought that way. What they hated was the outcome each of them thought would pass. A common idea was not shared among the four minds, the four completely different minds.

The Manic Doctor saw the famed image of one's eternal demise to be cruel. More than almost any other, he knew the jovial nature of his master, but watching his words and actions around Chrona before, his warning that he gave to him and Sid before they departed, and clear disdain he had for the curse the sword meister bore brought images of horrific outcomes to his mind. He might say the danger is too great, and hold Chrona in a cell until his body starts to digest himself. He may demand an execution, saying that the monsters never change. Any argument he would make would fall on deaf ears, when all he needed to say was what happened. Chrona drank the blood of Maka. He broke that promise to not hurt anyone. It was sending Dr. Stein into a different kind of madness.

Spirit, however, thought of quite the opposite. He thought of a different turn. Instead of a serious spot of logic from Lord Death, they would be met with nothing but the usual apathetic jovial nature of their leader. He would dismiss the attack of his beautiful daughter as nothing but teens in heat, calling the red headed man out on his own nature in front of his daughter. Instead of the boy turned monster being imprisoned or banished for his behavior, it would instead be Spirit who would sent away, given missions by the truck full to complete, never being allowed to see his precious Maka again. It was enough to almost make him cry.

Said precious daughter didn't share the same nightmare as her Papa, but whe did have one all her own. It was about the torment that she feared Chrona would go through, the pain that he would have to endure, so similar to what he had with his mother. He would be locked and chained in the miserable cellar the evil witch had been before, tied to the walls with chains stronger than steel and thicker than bone. Being kept locked up in that basement of Shibusen, not allowed to even see a single soul, not allowed to see her when she came to visit, all alone in that dark cell, not even Ragnarok to keep him company. He would start to lose what himself, break himself down in his own world until he's nothing but a shell. When Lord Death did finally did decide to let him out, he would push everyone away, Stein, Marie, even Maka herself. He would eventually end his own life, letting not a single tear reach him. It brought tears to the corners of her eyes.

Chrona was terrified. The only one among them to be so openly fearful of the smallest things, this situation was the hell he always wanted to be free from. The few people around him that he had just started to learn to follow, laugh, smile, even deal with all turning no him. Maka's father hating him with all the genuine hatred that he had for himself, Dr. Stein fearing him for acting on an instinct he didn't even understand, Lord Death planning to keep him away from Maka for the rest of his cursed life, and Maka… Maka was afraid of him again. He saw the fear in her eyes when her father held her back. He heard her father say how afraid she was. She was so scared when she looked at Chrona, held away from him by her Papa. She was probably trying to run away from him. That made sense. Everyone else always hated and feared him, so Maka should realize that eventually. It didn't stop the pain from going away.

Looking back, he saw how she was on the verge of tears, he saw the horror in her eyes. She was just realizing it, just realizing how horribly it was to be with him. No one should be around him and he only hurts the ones who get close to him. A crowd in a street, a warrior in a fight, it didn't matter. If they were close to him, he'd attack them. So he goes to look away, not able to bear the sight of Maka hating him, unable to deal with his angel starting to fly away from him. She stops him.

Not with her hands, or her words, but with an action, the kind of action he had been given from her countless times before. Countless to everyone but him. He counted exactly how many times she did this for him, counted and noted every place that she did this for him. Because each time she did this, he was reminded of just why he was staying alive, why he was keeping himself going, why he was trying to forget all the pain before, why the present was so much better.

Her smile did that to him every time, and he made sure to remember this time the most.

Chrona wasn't as good at smiling as Maka was, despite how much she may protest against that, but he knew that his smiling made her happy. And the thing was, the secret that he kept from even Ragnarok, was that her smile made him smile. Seeing his angel clothing in black and hiding her white, the wings of her soul enclosed until the heat of battle, giving him a smile that once made his soul shiver, but now brought a fogging sense of joy to his shattered mind was nothing short of blissful.

So they smiled to one another, low and below the vision of their respective guardians, letting that small sign of hope between the two guide them as they entered the domain of their Lord and Master.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

I'm here again. I was just here. It wasn't even that long ago, I don't think. But… but so much has already happened. Maybe it really was long ago. I… I could deal with this better if I hadn't been here in a while. That would mean this meeting would be… timely I guess. But… But it wasn't long ago, and no matter how many times I tell myself it was, I know it really isn't. Lord Death had just told me to be careful, just told me about all the evil other vampires, other monsters, other demons had done. He told me how many people they killed, told me that I was one of them. And I… I attacked Maka. I attacked my angel. I know he's going to punish me… I should be punished. I should be dead. Me- My mother was right, no one would save me.

Except Maka. Except my angel.

Even as I grip Dr. Stein's cloak harder, I have to look at her. Her father… the man who hates me, is holding her beside him, the opposite side of me. I can't see much of her, only a little, only her gorgeous blonde bangs, only her sparkling emerald eyes, only that much. I… I can deal with this while she's here, but she isn't near me. I want to be closer to Maka, my angel. I want her to protect me like she always does, and I want her to tell me it's going to be alright. I want her to at least smile at me, the smile she gives me whenever I can't deal with things, the smile she gave me when we were walking here. I adore that smile, and I need that smile.

"Chrona." My head turns fast enough for my hair to spin. I'm looking at him again, I'm looking at Lord Death again. He doesn't look happy, even with a stone mask I can tell. I can't deal with this. I can't deal with him being angry at me, not again, not without Maka. I need Maka. Please Maka.

"This isn't a very good situation, is it?" He's talking like this is just… just simple. But…But he was so angry before, when he found out what I was, why is he so kind now? I can't deal with this. "It's hard to think of anything that could be worse than this, don't you think?" No, No I can't think of anything worse than this. This is horrible, this is bad, this is terrible, this is awful, this is horrific, and this is my fault.

"If it's that bad, then let's throw him out of Shibusen!" What? What? What was Maka's father saying? "He hurt my darling Maka, bit her on the neck! A monster like him can't be allowed in your city." They're going to throw me out? They're going to get rid of me? No. No! Please, I can't deal with that. I can't deal with that. Not at all! No!

"You'll have a better chance of me finding my sanity Spirit." Dr. Stein spoke… for me? He's defending me? That doesn't make any sense, but then… then he pulls me closer to him, and I know he's defending me. I… still don't know why, but I can deal with it. "What he did was no more natural to him than your own inability to control your hormones. I might be able to fix that for you. Right now in fact, if you let me peel back a bit of your skin. Just behind your neck. At worst, it'll only paralyze you."

"All right you two, settle down now." Lord Death speaks in that high voice again. How does he decide when to use each voice? Can he decide for himself? "We can't have the parents acting like children. After all, we're here because of the them." He turns to look at me then, or I think he does. I can't tell. I can't tell anything with that tone mask. I don't know anything unless he tells me. How does he deal with such a heavy mask? I don't know how to deal with it.

"So Maka," he begins to say, and I look to my angel when he says her name. "Why did Chrona bit you?" His head twists when he asks that question, rolling to the side like neither the question nor the answer matter. But they do matter! I don't even know why… I don't know… All I know is how good it felt… But Maka's father says its evil, and Dr. Stein said it was horrible, too. Does that mean I am evil? I'm looking at my angel with what I can only call fear. What if she calls me evil? What if she says that I bit her because I'm evil? I won't be able to deal with that!

"He… W-We were just getting… too excited…" Her face is getting red. She's looking away from Lord Death when she says that. Is she lying? Maybe she really does think I'm evil… No, no no no no, NO! Please no! I don't want her to hate me. Not my angel, please not my angel…

"B-But there wasn't one time during it that he ever attacked me. I trust Chrona with my life, Lord Death, and he did not betray that!" She stands tall and firm when she says that, stepping away from her father. She really does look like an angel. An angel… that is looking at me with those heavenly green eyes. She doesn't hate me… She doesn't…

"I believe you Maka, and I don't think Chrona was trying to hurt you either." He… He wasn't? Wasn't that why we're here? "I'm actually more worried about how it happened, rather than what happened." How… How it happened? Oh… Oh no…

No, no no no no. I attacked Maka, I hurt her first, I made her pull me, hit me, stop me. I did attack her, I did hurt her… I bit her neck and sucked her blood. I drank from her body like a water bottle, getting my fill of blood. She didn't want me to, she wanted me to stop. I hurt her, I really hurt her, and she was really scared, terrified, mortified, and fearful of me. My arm hurts, it really hurts. I can't how strong I'm gripping it. But that's not nearly as much as I hurt Maka. I hurt her so much worse than this. I made her feel bad, I hurt my angel. I am evil, I must be.

"Is there something wrong Chrona?"

Lord Death's voice drags me from my guilt. I look up to him, pink bangs covering some of my vision. Maka and her father are looking at me too. My angel looks scared, probably scare of me. Her father looks angry, probably angry at me. Dr. Stein… he's holding me closer to him, still not letting me go… He's probably afraid I'll attack my angel. They're all afraid of me…

"Chrona?" Lord Death calls me again, "Is there something you want to tell us?" Is there? What can I say? They're all afraid of me, even my angel, probably… I can't deal with this. I don't want to deal with this… It would be better if Ragnarok were here. Then… then maybe I could leave…

"See that? He did do something to my precious Maka!" I think it's Maka's father that's talking. "He feels so guilty that he can't even speak." There's a slapping sound that fills the air, but I don't care about it. He's right. I am guilty… so guilty that I shouldn't even speak.

"Chrona, all that matters right now is what you feel." Lord Death sounds so kind right now. It's hard for me to be able to cope with him when he's like this, knowing how strong he is, how badly he hates me, how badly he wants to kill me. "I can promise you that I won't do any harm to you, but it's important that I know why you bit Maka in the first place. Did she kiss you first?" That's a question he wants me to answer, his pause tells me so. I have to speak now, or do something… But I don't know how to deal with it! If I answer honestly, Dr. Stein will hate me, Mrs. Marie won't want to see me, Maka will leave me, and I can't deal with any of that. But then I feel… something… It's gripping my shoulder, hard. I let my cursed red eyes look at it, and I see… I see Dr. Stein's hand. He must be forcing me to talk, wanting me to condemn myself… But I still look up at him, expecting to see his eyes, golden and sharp like my late mother's. But they're not. They're kind.

He's smiling down on me so gently, so… so assuringly, that I see Mrs. Marie behind me… I see her supporting me… like Dr. Stein is doing now. Maybe… Maybe it will be okay. I hope it is okay. I won't be able to deal with… with anything again… if it isn't okay.

"I…" Air catches in my throat as I try to speak. I swallow it, and start again. "It was…" Another lump forces itself in my throat. Why two? Wasn't one normal, then what is two? Is something stopping me from saying it? Maybe this really will turn out bad… Maka's father is looking at me so intently, I know he hopes it is, his green eyes far too sharp to be the same as Maka's kind green gaze. And that's what her gaze is now… kind, gentle, sweet, the same smile that I will die again to protect, and kill anyone to save. I don't want to see her do anything but see my angel's smile, see her kind warm gaze… not anything.

"Maka didn't kiss me first. I bit her first."

"THERE!" I hear Maka's father yell. I don't see him though, my head is hanging between my shoulders. "RIGHT THERE! He admitted! He's a monster in and out!" Please someone stop him. Please don't let him say that. I lean on Dr. Stein for support, hoping he'll hold me closer to him like he did before, hiding me from Maka's father's cruel words. I don't want to be a monster. I don't want to be like that. Please Dr. Stein, please don't let him say those-

"Chrona," He says my name, and I look up to him. His eyes are closed. His mouth is shut. A hand is covering most of his face, almost like he's trying to hold a mask in place… hold… hold a mask in place… No No No No, Please No! But his eyes open, and I know the truth.

"Why?" He asks it so coldly, so much like my mother, so much like before. Why now? Why? Did I not do enough? Should I have lied to them? Should I lie to them instead? Should I say I'm not at fault? Should I blame Maka? Didn't he say that he thought of me like a son? Like Maka to her father? Like Junior Death to Lord Death? Then why does he look at me with such cold eyes? Why does he question me like I'm a criminal?

Why does he think I'm a monster?

"I'm sorry!" I shout it as I move away. I don't know how to deal with him. I don't know how to deal with this! "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I say the words again and again, hoping with blind useless hope that they'll make everything right. That I'll be human again, that I'll be dead again, that I won't be hated anymore, that I'll be gone forever. I don't know how to deal with this. I don't know how to deal with… with anything!

"I'll die again. I'll let you kill me. I'll go away from Shibusen. I'll live alone for the rest of my life. I won't see anyone, hear anyone, feel anyone again. Just please don't hate me!" My knees are giving out, and I feel the stone when they're gone. I know I'm crying by know, red bitter blood tears painting the ground with my sin. I don't deserve to be here, I don't deserve to be alive. I didn't deserve anything when I was alive, so now it's being toyed with me in my second life. Please kill me. Please let my second death be my final death.

"I don't want to be hated. I don't want to be alone. I don't want that. I can't deal with that. Please don't make me do that. Please! I'll kill myself if you want. I'll kill myself and stay dead, I'll make sure you never have to see my cursed life again. Just please don't hate me. Please…" I don't know how long I kneeled down like that, cursing my cursed life and begging for another end, but I know that however long it was wasn't long enough. I would have to beg for death for centuries to earn his gift. Why can't he just kill me? I'm right before him, hated, feared, and loathed. I don't know how to deal with anything, I don't know how to deal with being hated, so why can't he kill me? It would make it so much easier on everyone. Maka's father would be happy, Dr. Stein would be satisfied, Lord Death wouldn't be angry, and Maka… Maka would be happy again. She can't be happy with me, not with me. Why can't I die? Why can't I stay dead?

"It's okay Chrona." A voice whispers to me, a heavenly voice that I know so well, and depend on so much. "I don't hate you. I'll never hate you." I feel her rest her body on my side, holding my head closer to her chest. I don't fight it, not at all. I feel so cold, so dead, so alone. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want to be hated. I'd rather be alone and dead then hated and feared. But I'll always look for my angel, I'll always look for Maka.

I can hear Dr. Stein, Maka's father, and Lord Death talking, but I don't care about them, not now. I don't know how to deal with them. I want to ignore them all, forget about all of them, and forget everything except my angel. I can deal with anything as long as she holds me like this. Slowly rubbing my back, breathing her heavenly scent through my hair. I don't care about anything other than this, I can't care.

"…banishment then." I hear the end of someone's thoughts. They're talking about me, I know they are. Who else would they hate enough to talk about without them there? My mother is dead, the Kishin is dead, Arachne is dead, so I'm the only one they can talk about. I don't care. Maka is holding me, so I don't care.

"No… worst kind… better for him… better for her…" I think it's Lord Death, but I don't know. I don't care enough to hear all that he is saying. It just doesn't matter. My angel is holding me so gently, caring for me so kindly. I don't think anything they say can really matter to me anymore.

"…what then… death?" It's still Maka's father. He doesn't like me. I don't think he ever like me. That's okay though, I don't have to deal with that anymore. Maka is so close to me that I don't have to deal with anything. I'll hold her the same way she is holding me, and I'll be able to take anything else the world wants to give.

"Old room… deal with that… please." I know that's Dr. Stein, but I don't care what he's saying either. He was just so cold to me, he didn't care aboue me. Not like Maka. Maka never doubted me. My angel was always with me. Dr. Stein was ready to hurt me himself, like he had before. Maka wouldn't do that, not again, not while she's being so kind, holding me close like I wished my mother would have done just once. I can deal with this so easily that I don't want to deal with anything else. Nothing else matters, not as long as I have Maka, not as long as I'm with her.

"No… dangerous like that… Maka…" they are taking about Maka, and about me… maybe. But it still doesn't matter. Not really. Not anymore.

"What else… I'll listen…" Dr. Stein this time.

"… Nothing…." And Maka's father again. I still can't seem to care.

"Very well… take him?" I think it's Lord Death, but I don't know. The conversation is so far away. Far away things don't matter as much as things close by. None of that matters as long as Maka is –

"I'll take him Lord Death." What? That… that is Maka…

It's then that I look up, look at my angel as she looks towards Lord Death. The way her hair is glowing under the false sunlight, the way her face is stern and raised, the way her green eyes shimmer with pride, I know that she really is an angel. My angel. Mine and mine alone. I don't know what she is doing though. Is she going to damn me? Is she going to harm me? Is she going to save me? Is she going to rescue me? I hope so, I know she can, I know she will, because I know she has. Killing my mother for harming me, releasing the spirits that corrupted me, forgiving the sins I had made. That's what she does, that's who she is. That's my angel.

"Very good. But!" Lord Death responds, raising a high flat hand to Maka's father, whose mouth was opened with the clear intent to yell. "I don't want you taking him anywhere else. This if very likely the last time you'll be able to see Chrona for a while Maka." What? Why? While only a while? Was I really being banished? No, please, I don't want that. I want my angel. I grip her arm harder with the thought, afraid to let her go.

"I understand Lord Death." She responds back. Then she looks back to me, her smile softer, he eyes brighter, her face smoother, and her very being lighter. She's even more an angel now as she looks at me than before. I don't know what's happening, but I don't care as much, because I don't have to deal with it yet. Not as long is Maka is here.

"C'mon Chrona, let's go." She stands up holding my hands. I don't know when I gave them to her, or when she took them. But I don't care. I can still see one of her gloves is gone. My hand touching hers, skin against skin, flesh to flesh. I don't feel any heat, but I can feel myself flood with happiness. This is enough, as long as I have this, this is enough.

We're walking away from Lord Death, from Dr. Stein, from Maka's father, and my hand is still being held in hers, still as tightly as before. She's not watching me, she's watching the path beneath the guillotines above, but she is smiling, that smile that saved my life.

I don't remember the path we're taking. AT least, not how many turns we took. It reminds me of traveling with Mrs. Marie, always unable to find her way, even with the path spelled out for her. It's like we're searching for where to go more than following a path for it. But Maka is still next to me, still holding my hand without any kind of fear, without any kind of hesitance. It's so nice, so… gentle. I want to stop walking even, just to lay down and hold her hand for a while. I've never felt any kind of peace that compares to this. Not the calm after a kill, not Mr. Corner while I hug Mr. Pillow, not even Mrs. Marie's embrace. Just Maka, only Maka, all I ever need is Maka.

But… But I still don't know where we're going. I recognize where we are, the windows, the stones, the pillars. But I don't know why we're here. We're so close to outside that I want to know. They're so many places where we can go, and I don't know where we are going. But she knows, Maka always knows, but I would like to know.

"W-Where are we going?" I have to ask it. I don't care where, as long as Maka is with me, but I still would like to know. I can deal with not knowing, but I would enjoy knowing, if she thinks I should know. But I trust Maka, so I don't care either way. I can deal with not knowing. But then, she's no longer looking at the brightening horizon, no longer watching the descent of the crazed moon. She's looking at me, and I see my angle smile at me as she speaks to me.

"Where ever we can go to be together."

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

And so they left, quickly and swiftly before another soul knew they were gone. The night was old, and the morning soon to be born, but they would both be gone before the first cheery laugh of the sun could be heard. The angel would guide the demon, and the demon would protect the angel. A story both old and new, timeless and classic. But with their departure came something else. For everything that moves, only invites something else to join. And with the departure of Angel and Demon came the arrival of something old to the world, but new to Death's City.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

"So what are you going to do about your 'boy', Stein?" Spirit addresses me in a tone that demands punishment. The hard glare I return to him does nothing to affect his attitude. "He did attack my precious daughter, and even Lord Death agrees with me on this one. And if you're so serious about him being your son, you have a lot to answer for too," He's taking too many steps into dangerous territory.

"I may just open my schedule tonight to take a look at that mind of yours. It seems one of my procedures on it may have ruptured a few blood vessels. It would explain your out bursts. I might even be able to fix them." Saying that would usually send him against the wall in a cold sweat, knowing as well as believing my desire and ability to perform such an act. However, now, he looks at me with determination in his eyes. It's difficult to say this is abnormal behavior for him, because I've seen him ask this way before. When Maka charged ahead to find Chrona as we battled with his mother… with the real monster.

"You've got a long way to go to understanding a parent's affection for his child." Somehow… I'm more than sure I don't want to share that kind of affection with Chrona. "Did you see the way Maka looked to me when I defended her against Chrona's words. She was so shy about it, she had to push me away. Only a real father can see the love in that." That's all I need to assure myself.

"Really Spirit, I am willing to bet all of my scalpels and forceps that Maka will avoid with the entire effort one would avoid a leper. To her, you are nothing but a dishonorable parent. I dare to think she'll no longer recognize you as her father." He stops moving at that. Rather from shock, realization, horror, or misery, I don't truthfully care. Anything that allows Spirit a moment of self-hatred that he so desperately needs is enough for me.

I will have to find a way to Chrona though, with Maria would be preferable. As much as I entertain the thought, going to him now would do little good. He may see me as someone else who betrayed him, agreeing to have him locked up in his old cell. As far as the cells go though, it's the one he's most used to, so he should best be able to deal with. It is far better than having him being held up in that cell… where his deceitful mother was bound and kept. If he was put in there… I know he'd be lost, and that is something I just cannot allow. Regardless, only Marie can really reach him now, aside from Maka. He has only just begun to lean on me, as happy as I am with that, but I fear that small amount of trust was shattered. It may come back, but not tonight, and I fear waking Marie up, even for this, will only send her into a rage.

Waking her up with so little sleep, or dragging her from the home should she still be awake, would only keep her in the drunken stupor she's sure to have fallen into by now. Just over a day of staying awake does amazing things on the human body. For her, as I've seen and know her, she'll act like the violent drunk that she was at the graduation ceremony decades ago. It's a well known fact the mind beings to releases endorphins and hormones to compensate for the lack of rest, like a muscle releasing lactic acid to force it to stop, often leading to severe cramps. The difference being the hormones released by the brain force a state similar to a blood alcohol level of 0.12 after just five hours of sleep deprivation. If Marie is still awake, she's at least triple that now. If she were to receive the news of Chrona's wrongful imprisonment, she would doubtlessly attack Shibusen no differently than before. It's a true pain, but I know I will have to wait until the morning, or else I risk only furthering Chrona's punishment by Marie's and my own foolishness.

"Pardon me?"

A voice asks beside me. I don't recognize it, but it could just be any parent visiting their bed-ridden child, not an uncommon occurrence. When I turn to see who it is, I know that assumption couldn't be more off.

A woman donned in a knight's armor is standing before me.

For a moment, all I can do is stare, as I'm sure Spirit is doing as well for far different reasons. The armor is wearing is nothing like the kind I see of other knights in lore, fantasy, stories, or even poems. It is shaded a dark hue of blue, traced with silver linings along the edges of every surface. Shibusen's halls are only lit by the candles in the halls and pale moonlight from the windows, but her armor shines like the sun is still upon it. Pieces of it that I once thought should be flat or cylinder or simple even to design are nothing of the sort. Each gauntlet about her forearm has vicious spikes across the top, angles towards the sky should she let her arms hang. They line her arms in a way that would surely cut and rend any person's flesh should she take a swing. The tips of her metal arms are even spiked, each finger ending on a violent point, like the very tip of any bladed weapon. Her vambraces on her upper arms were little different, having their own set of spikes on them as well, but only two to each arm, compared to the 4 that sat on each gauntlet she had. The pauldrons on her shoulders were following the pattern. They weren't just the smooth metal that was so common and logical to guard one of the weakest points of the body, they each instead were made of one vicious spike, long and ending a good foot out from where their basses were set. Each spike on each arm on each piece of metal came up from the oddly hued blue metal, ending on the recognizable silver of clouds and armor from knight's tales. They were vicious just to look at.

"Is this the path to The Grim Reaper's Study?"

The tasset around her waist was not menacing, but it was far more extravagant than most usually ever were. Most simple have three to four layers of carbon steel along each side, exposing the front and back for easier movement. Hers was not that way. It carried around her in a 360 degree pattern, completely enfolding her. Three or four folds of steel would be a conservative guess, but my eyes catches over seven different folds of the metal, gliding across one another with a surprising amount of ease, or so I can assume. But what were terrifying pieces of her armor below the waist were the poleyns on her knees. To be specific, actually, just one knee, her left knee, my right. While her right knee, my left, was as smooth and protective as most poleyns were, guarding the fragile kneecap from hammering blows that could shatter the joint, her left, my right, was far more terrifying. A thin long spike rose from the poleyn, traveling well to the tip of the tasset of her waist. It carried the same ocean blue to good message silver color scheme that the spikes on her gauntlet, vambraces, and pauldron carry. As she stands straight and still, it hugs against cuisse of her upper thighs well, almost hiding it as pattern to the design. But if she were to bend her knee, or worse, thrust it forward, I imagine it to be as deadly as nearly any sword.

"Does something ail you?"

Her face is that of an Amazon, sharp but shaped but with battles of both knowledge and strength. She carries no scars on her face, but any that she holds are probably hidden beneath the mountain of bleach white hair she has. It is as cloud white as my own, but longer than even Marie's. It waves down her form like water would across rocks, elegant and graceful even where it mingles with vicious spikes of her armor. The white blends extremely well with the cool steel and dark blue, more like they belonged together more than any other combination of colors. But what captures me, and undoubtedly Spirit, are her eyes. They are a vicious green. Not the soft emerald that Chrona adores so much from Maka, but harsh and vibrant jade. It reminds me of the killing tools used by the Mana warriors of the early Philippine tribes. A normally peaceful and majestic color used on a tool that was proven to be stronger and denser than steel. It's something that-

"Fine." She interrupts my thought with her harsh emphasis on the word and a wave from her deadly hand. "I'll search for his chambers alone. I bid you good 'morrow." And with that, she walked by me, walking with a surprising amount of ease considering the weight the suit must carry on her. Her metal soles echo against the stone walls of Shibusen, so much so it amazes me that I did not notice her until she spoke. Maybe Spirit really is affecting me more than I think he is, or maybe I'm just getting old. Regardless of either, this… this is not something I can just let go by. I open my mouth to call to her, but my red headed, and quite foolish, companion places his hand over my mouth, silencing me. The urge to remove his digits individually is a bit more than intoxicating right now, but his words carry a surprising amount of wisdom on them, surprising for him that is.

"If you tell her where he is, she'll expect you to leave, but I really want to know who she is. Don't you?" Even though I was silently tracing the patterns of where to cut his fingers later, I can't help but agree with him. I do want to know who she is, madly, but he is also right that once you give someone directions, they expect you to leave. I could lead her though, take her to Lord Death, but that would only mean I would have to leave at the door. Here, back away from her, I can follow her silently and just what she wants, or at least what she is.

Spirit removes his hand from my mouth quickly, wisely, and we both push ourselves to the hall she just came from, leaning our heads out to watch her. She is looking down the hall and at every path she passes, silently judging which has the better chance for taking her to Lord Death. She has yet to give any kind of sign of turning, continuing down the large corridor I had just come from.

Oddly enough, if she just follows this hallway down approximately twenty meters, she'll reach the large red doors to Lord Death's domain, but by the way she asked her question, and is slowing her pace, I don't think she knows that. I have a feeling inside of my mind that she will deduce a turn is due and take a path that will lead her away from Lord Death. It's a logistic path that most people take.

She continues to move forward, step by step in her oddly designed knight armor. He steps do begin to slow in pace, shrink in stride, and her turning down each hall she passes. She is questioning where to go, wondering what way best leads to my Master's chambers. I let myself think that she'll take the next hall soon, but something holds me back. Though her stride and speed are shrinking, she has yet to truly stop moving, or give indication that she will. She moves less and less like someone searching for something while they move, and more like someone who is simply thinking while they move. She's not trying to deduce the path… she's trying to… remember it maybe? That may be true, but I have never seen her here, nor has Spirit by what he has admitted. That would put her last time her well over thirty years ago. It would make sense then why she would forget the way, but I still do not know who she is. Her hair waves with a snap of her head, and her pace picks up to a normal stride. She either has remembered the way to Lord Death, or she has finally seen the mighty red door.

The great doors to the chamber open and she steps inside. It takes only a moment, but I force myself to move quickly enough to move again. Spirit follows swiftly behind me, moving across the floor as swift and silently as possible. We both stop just outside the door, catching it before it can close. He enters before me, and I shut it after I enter, loud enough to let her know that the door really is close. Having no sound echo through the domain is a good first sign for any warrior that they are being followed. She is ahead of us, but not far, still traveling down the long lines of guillotines that line the path to my Master's mirror. With every one she passes under, Spirit and I move forward, alternating which side we hide behind, careful to hide ourselves completely from her. It's a slow process, but one that works more than it fails.

When my Master's mirror comes into view, Spirit and I stop. Lord Death is waiting at the top of the small set of stairs, the woman still climbing them in her ocean blue armor. I cannot say that I envy her in that suit. It must be far more difficult to move in that in combat than anything else I or any other student has had to wear. I'd take a blindfold over that, as I'm sure most of the wiser students would as well.

"Ah, you took a sweet amount of time, didn't you?" My Master of Arms asks as he bends to his left, giving that façade of ease he carries so easily. So many years and I still can't find the trigger that tells him when to act, when to be serious, and when it doesn't matter at all.

"Speaking with the honesty, I had doubts this threat you claim so dire to be true. Last you looked for my aid, it was for a new resting place for Heaven's Blade." She answers back. Her hands are woven well between the spikes of her gauntlets, letting her arms relax on one another without the fear of impalement. It would be a bit of dark humor for my part to see her impale herself.

"Well it's not as if anyone else can handle him. I mean, c'mon, it took a man chosen by heaven to keep him silent, so it only makes sense that his guardian can find the next safe place for him." I find myself coming to a horrifying realization of whom they are talking about. I still know little of the woman, but I know of her duties now, at least to a point, and I know what one of them was long ago. More than before, but still not enough.

"Of course, because he cannot handle the students of this modern age. I am sure that he is used many times between them, going through bids and auctions for the right to use him in any combat of arms." I now know without a doubt who they are speaking off, and I cannot stop the grimace that pulls at my face. My hand reaches for the screw in my head, itching to turn it, but I remind myself how silent I must be. As calming as the action it, it is also… indiscreet, or so Marie reminds me.

"Well… um… saying it like that… uh, it makes it sound… how do I say this, unimportant."

"With comparison to where he was, and where he still should be, it was not only unimportant, but rather reckless." Her hands unfold, and she waves one before her bleach colored hair again. "But enough of the past, I came to know of you present." To his credit, Spirit remained stock still through all this, where I thought he would be whispering idiotic questions of how I thought she looked beneath that armor. Now, I think we are both as intoned to this conversation as possible. Lord Death straightens himself with her address, and I can hear him take in breath before he speaks.

"Yeah, your right, this is an important matter, isn't it?" He turns from her, looking back at his mirror, his portal to and from this world. They both remain still as ice for a time, moving only as the air moves them. Small partings in the woman's hair, ripples across my Master's robes, but that is all. If there is one thing they share, it is patience. But then he turns back to her, the façade of cheer and ignorant bliss gone.

"Lady of the Lake, Guardian of Excalibur, the Lord of the Vampires has returned."

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**Author's Note:**Fun aren't I? Yes, that is an OC, but I did ALL that I could to make her fit in this universe. Not just some Mary-Sue character to fill the void that is my heart, but someone that can work well within Soul Eater's world.

Quick lesson for those that don't know, The Lady of the Lake is a spirit that resides at the bottom on an unnamed lake in Arthurian Legends. There are several different names for the lake, but it doesn't really matter in this story. She is frequently portrayed as an ageless wise spirit that guards the holy blade of Excalibur before Merlin comes to claim it and after Sir Bedivere returned it. Considering how normally non-violent spirits tend to be turned into combat bad-asses in this show, A.K.A. Medusa, Lord Death, Franken Stein, I that The Lady of the Lake should be a knight like character. The armor is more than just appearance, or as it will be made clear later. Let's just say… spikes are sharp for a VERY freaking good reason.


	12. Chapter 12: Entrance

**Author's Note:** Good to see that no one else was thrilled about the Twilight idea. Just had to clear the air before this went on. I'd say I'm about done with the first act. Main Characters established, hints towards minor characters, and central plot device also done. Now comes the second act, the major set up for the action scenes that will showcase the climatic showdown. Just guess what that's gonna be, but I'm looking forward to writing it. Maybe I already have. Maybe that's why my updates take so long…

No I'm just a poor combination of lazy and busy. Besides, my college has started now, so I have a LOT of homework in an engineering college with a Pre-Med degree.

For those who are still confused, Lady of the Lake IS an OC in design, but she's based off a prior fictional character of Arthurian legend. Look at my last note or just look her up for more info. She does become a major player, BUT she's not going to get her own voice sections unless I get a lot of positive feedback on her. Which I doubt. And since I'm male, NO, she's not a self-insert.

Anyway, yes this chapter is short compared to my norm, but don't be shocked if this becomes routine, seeing as my work load will be anything but easy in the coming months. Thank you again for all your support. All 8 of you.

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It has been many ages since I've seen The Lady of the Lake, a spirit much like me. Physical to touch, immortal to time, powerful in both mind, body, and especially soul, and most importantly, as dedicated as I. From the moment I met her, till the last time I spoke to her, I never once witnessed her wander from her path for any reason. She did not hesitate in her duty to guard a sacred blade, despite the many… many annoyances it brought. She did not waver before an enemy she thought friend, nor tremble beneath foe larger and stronger than her, though such a foe was rare for her to face. No, she is a spirit like me, dedicated to the path she choses.

I enjoy her company of words as much as I enjoy the reminder that I am not unique and alone throughout the world, not the only spirit given form to walk to Earth. When other are bound to the cravings or limitations of their mortal forms, the Lady and I would spend the moments together patiently. For if there is one thing immortality brings, it is patience. So often do I remember trying to crack a smile on that placid stone face of hers, hardened through her honorable duty and lengthy trails.

If I had to guess, I would say my attempts at making her do more than scowl at me brought about the idea for my façade of a behavior. She would not take my words seriously when I spoke to her as I would a child, and I never once saw a smile crack her lips when I did. But the extremes I would go to would earn the smaller amounts of emotion to cross her face. Mishearing small announcements, playing down major discussions, or maybe just toying with something she desired at the time. They are all traits that I found to be amusing and entertaining to the many children of my school, and they have been invaluable to keeping me above being feared. Because if I am to rule this city, fear is the last method by which I want to control it.

Still… it's odd that a moment as serious as this is what brings about a smile to her face.

It is not a wicked smile as I would expect of Stein, or even lazy grin that could come from young Soul Evans, when he is proven correct, as he often is. No… this is more… controlled, more… restrained than either of those. A small smirk that pulls at the edges of her lip, just one edge, like a string is moving her muscles without her desire. It's odd really, I expected something else.

"Can you tell me why his return is such an amusing thing, Miss Lady of the Lake?" I ask with a tilt of my head. Expressions fail to commune through my mask well, but full body gestures tend to do the trick.

"Oh do not think hard of it." She replies to me with another wave of her hand, another dismissing motion to something she hopes to fan away. "For past more than a millennia I have pondered when he would return again, hoping thy will would call for me in battle, less than in secret as this is." Ah, she hopes to be called for a fight, not for a meeting. Odd to most, but expected of her. Waiting at the water's bottom for so long would make further patience redundant in her mind. So long waiting, she sees action around the corner. Sense I would share should I ever find myself in her position.

"Hmm, that does work, I suppose." My response is given with my head still tilted. Though after my words fade, so does her small grin. Pity. "Well, rest assured that I will need you when that battle comes, but thankfully we're not there yet. And really, you must know me better than that. I don't try and surprise people."

Her expression is terrifying.

"Well… not surprise them with something like a life-or-death battle at least. That's my line." Her sharp eyes soften and I cannot stop the breath that I release. I wasn't even aware I was holding one. She may forget my methods, but she is not the only one at fault. I have apparently forgotten her intimidating soul. That raises and idea in my mind, or more of a question really. I wonder just how much it has grown through these years? Is it close to the magnitude of my own, able to encompass my entire city? Doubtful, given that she has spend little to no time in combat since our last… meeting. I suppose I can call it that. But still, a look wouldn't hurt, at least not her.

I focus my vision beyond the mortal realm, looking to the things beyond the restraint of space and form. Searching for the objects that appears at it wishes to be, limited by nothing except the strength it has grown to possess. Only a few can perform this task, and from those few even less know how to use it willingly. It is a rare gift, and one that should not be squandered. I release my breath, and look for the soul of The Lady.

I find it now scarcely different than the last time I had lain my un-seen eyes a crossed it. It takes the same spherical shape as all other souls do, but with that one unique twist that makes it her own. Unlike the shape of her hair or other distinguished markings that the body possesses, her soul has something different. It's a trait more to what her duty remains than what she appears to be.

A long line travels between her soul. It is flattened at the top, but curved to a blunt point at the bottom, grazing the ground she stands on. It is wider than it is deep, but hollow should it be seen from above. To many and all who trained with weapons, it is an object they are familiar with. A sword's scabbard, the home to a blade when the battle is done. Rarely the final resting place, but always the location by which it chooses to travel. It is the trait she had nearly a millennia ago, and it is the same now as it was then. It captures me little now, despite the time that has passed. What captures me about her soul, however, as it would anyone should they look to her soul, is the color of her soul.

It is the same vibrant yet dark blue of the deep lakes, tranquil in the calm but dangerous in the storm. A sort of mesmerizing color that beckons many to explore, but punishes those who are unworthy to explore its depths. Its size is the same as you would expect for the denizen of a lake, larger than most of the souls you would seen in the pits of battle, and trained well to use all the power it can command. It still holds barely a candle to the mighty inferno that is my own soul, but I have done more than wait at a lake's bottom for the many past centuries. But… But just past her dark blue form I see two more souls, peaking beyond the poor veil of the crimson guillotines. It takes me barely a moment to recognize who they are.

"To some, peering at one's soul is scarcely different than laying eyes on bare lithe forms."

Though my body wants to give a slight jolt with the suddenness by which her voice speaks, I suppress it, as I do all other needless flashy reactions. It would give an improper appearance to a ruler, let alone the master of the living and dead. My vision returns to the physical realm, and I see The Lady of the Lake standing as she was before, arms still crossed and face as cold as the domain from which she came.

"My mistake." I reply with a wave of my hand, "but I was just seeing if much had changed from our last encounter, besides the more obvious changes that is. However…" I speak before she turn away my paper thin reason for my examination. "I did find something that doesn't quite fit, something… that doesn't really belong." The only emotion she gives me is a single raised eyebrow. Two expressions in under a few minutes, I must be on a roll after all these years. But as much as I would love to pull these strings of hers, as I do all my subjects, matters at hand are far more important than personal desires. Raising my same dismissing hand to my mask, I make call to the hidden trespassers.

"Stein, Spirit, feel free to join us!" I feel their souls give a small tense grab as I call their names, but they relax quickly. For Stein, it is more from his control in battle. For Spirit, it is more from his quick acceptance to my will. Both good reasons to me. With only a small amount of hesitance, they both walk out from their thin hiding position, Spirit with his head down and hand on his head, and Stein with a drag still in his mouth, cold as the Lady that I have been speaking to, no matter how briefly.

"I apologize Lord Death," Stein speaks as they reach the small set of stairs, "I let my curiosity beat me regarding this… Lady of the Lake as you call her." He says with small gesture to the armored warrior beside him.

"Hmm… Can I ask why you didn't just ask her something before she entered my chambers? Or why you hid yourself from us? That's not very much like you Stein." I speak with an edge of knowledge on my words, being careful to keep them light. If my tone were to grow heavy, it would force Stein to shut down. Spirit may be more malleable in such a state, but Stein is a stone of knowledge, so much so I believe Rosetta to be a very appropriate nickname for the man.

"I can explain that one My Lord." Spirit speaks in place of Stein raising a hand with his head for what I can only guess is foolish confidence. A quick glance at Stein's expression is all the confirmation I need. "You see, Stein and I were just walking out of your chambers after the meeting, and we saw this… magnificent woman walking towards us. She asked to know where you were, but I was just so dumbstruck by her looks, that I was speechless." That much is believable, dumb that is.

"After she left us, Stein and I just wanted to see know more about her, so we followed her into your domain. But before we could ask her anything, we saw that she was already talking to you, and it would just be the rudest thing to interrupt a young lady talking to a man as prestigious as yourself." Sometimes, it's almost sad just how low Spirit is willing to fall. Almost. "But now that that's out of the way," he begins with a turn to Lady of the Lake. "I know you are the Lady of the Lake, I'm-"

"A Pig." The Lady spits like the insult it is.

A satisfied expression places itself across Stein's face, satisfied that his partner's façade was so easily shattered. It's a common game they both play, but a one-sided one at that. Stein losing to Spirit in anything except womanizing would be a sad day for all of Shibusen. The defeated look on Spirit only proves more to me just how hard her statement hit. Just one more thing I missed about her, being as blunt as the flat of her fists. Regardless, I can't let this continue on too long. Too much time has been wasted already.

"Now now," I begin to The Lady. "No need to be so harsh. He's just a poor misunderstood pig." I can't help myself.

"Your being generous Master," Stein speaks up with a grin holding his cigarette steady. "He's a just a dirty pig." These are all hitting close to home for Spirit, I'm sure. And sure enough, a single glance at my most powerful Death Scythe shows me his defeated form lying on the ground, bitter crocodile tears coming from his eyes. It almost feels like any other day, and how I wish it was.

"True enough," I say, "But let's allow the pig a small break, we do have far more important things to discuss. To begin," I say with a small raise in my otherwise light tone, "How about some real introductions, hmm?" I question with a tilt of my head. Stein and the Lady give each other a small look over with my command, sizing one another up for their own reserved judgments. Stein knows how to act without worry to what he feels, only what he thinks. The Lady, however, holds no qualms to sharing her thoughts with others, no matter how blunt or painful they may be. When others may weave their words to carefully analyze someone else, she would say the worst traits about them to the world without a second thought. I should know…

"It is very nice to meet your acquaintance, Miss Lady of the Lake," he begins with a slight bow, careful with his words and actions. "I am Doctor Frank N. Stein, loyal servant to Lord Death, master meister and teacher of Shibusen." He raises himself up when he is finished lifting he is finished, taking a slow drag from his cigarette as he waits for The Lady's reply. He hides his eyes through a combination of fallen white bangs and harsh glares on his white glasses, letting it keep him from being analyzed any deeper by a woman he hardly knows. Still wise and careful in and out of battle. Then again, he and I both see these kinds of conversations as battles of their own.

"To you I find and equal amount of pleasure in meeting," The Lady of the Lake returns with her slight bow, hand fisted and kept close to her chest as she does so, similar to the Roman Legionnaires so long ago. "For name, I possess none, but my title is kept as The Lady of The Lake, Guardian of Heaven's Blade and immortal spirit." As she rises from her own bow, she gives a gaze to Stein far colder than his. Long silver hair falls down her face, mixing with the blue and silver linings of her armor. Brutal green eyes look from beneath the natural cover of her face with an intent that Stein must both well know and fear, as it looks so similar to his own maddened expression. She was not drooling at the mouth, laughing with malicious intent, or dreaming of foul ways to harm him, no, but anyone could tell from the expression on her face, the cold stoic gaze that she had, that she was not afraid to butcher, maim, and decimate any obstacle in her path. I swear I saw Stein shiver.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" I ask them both, speaking in my giddy tone to appease the unneeded tension in the room. Both look to me with their battle earned expressions, unsure whether or not I am testing them further, or truly trying to move on. Even I have fun with playing with that idea.

"Moving on, though, there is much to discuss with our guest here, wouldn't you agree Stein?" I bend his way with a twist of my head and waist, careful in my every motion. He knows more than most when I am being distracting, or when I am being wise. He gives a brief sigh before lowering his head and speaking again.

"I suppose you are right again master. This isn't the best time to begin a game of 20 questions, much as I would like to." With the glare of his glasses gone, it is easy to see his eyes look to my armored companion when he speaks.

"As would I to thee." The Lady returns, brushing back her silver hair carefully, given the sharp edgings of her gauntlet and armor. "You are most intriguing, young doctor, and a proper conversation would be most… jubilant to have." They share a grin that I'm confident would cause chills among many of the innocent souls of my city, a grin that only a soul put through the trails of madness and despair can have.

It is a smile I wear stone mask to hide.

"Well then, to business." The words are accompanied with a clap of my massive hands. It's not a booming sound, and especially not thunderous, but it's pretty hard to ignore, if I had to think objectively of it, which I do. Regardless, I wait for them both to return their gazes to me before I speak again.

"Now, only one of us has actually seen The Lord of Vampires. Oddly enough, it was more than just a simple coincidence. The witness was a student of mine here, sent on a mission that was supposed to be a simple Kishin Egg extermination. But somewhere on the chain, somebody changed the mission standing so that a two star meister could have access to it. It sent the poor boy to the Carpthanian Mountains, the to the last place that we saw the monster."

"And yet even thee did not once ponder upon such an anomalous coincidence?" The Lady asks me with her arms folded. Blunt as a hammer, sharp as a sword. She is definitely the same as I remember her.

"It's been over a thousand years Lady," I respond to her. "If I held such paranoia that the vampires would return at any moment, would I not be living my life in fear? Afraid that any student I send out may be to their death? I already have fear enough that they will not be strong enough against regular monsters that lurk within the darkened souls, I don't want the fear that they will find an enemy that is just as strong as I am." I doubt I convinced her with such an emotional response, but she doesn't move to speak back to me. That's enough of a queue to keep talking.

"It's pretty needless to say that my student was unprepared for an ambush from such an ancient enemy. We lost contact with him for the longest, finding him in the worst of states."

"Does he have only words of a tongue that bids you to summon me? For your endless love, I know it is not beyond your sights to spy silver words Reaper." The Lady returns again, and I see an eyebrow twitch over Stein's eye. I let the question mull in my mind whether his slight annoyance was due to The Lady's rather blunt method of asking questions, or whether her accusing his adopted son of being liar is a bit much for the man on the edge of madness. I think it over, but soon discard it.

"Well… he has more than testimony to prove what he saw." I really didn't want to tell her about Chrona, not just yet anyways. I don't, and I certainly hope Stein does not either.

"So he returned with a talisman for his testament?"

"… In a way I suppose he has." I really don't want to say it.

"What item did he hold that lies between tangible and imaginary?" Her lines were growing in volume, and her arms have sense uncrossed. She's growing annoyed, and I still really don't want to tell her.

"It's not so much that has something as much as… he was given something." Too far, and I know it. Stein knows it. I even see Spirit's collapsed form twitch with recognition as I say it. For only a moment do The Lady's green eyes gaze at my mask in confusion. But when realization of an epiphany dawns on her, I see her own stone mask break with a face of shock.

"He has been turned."

It isn't a question, more of a statement. She knows what I mean now, and she knows just how deep this is. But if she knows that, there isn't much else worth hiding. Still, it pays well to be cautious under the gaze of a wolf.

"Yes, he has, and it is a curse he fully realizes and hates now more than anybody else can curse. It's hard to justify on the spot, but I'd say that he possess a threat to no one at all."

"What are you talking about?" Oh no. Oh please Spirit, no. "Didn't we just get out of a freaking meeting abo-" His voice cuts, and for an obvious reason. Stein has placed his hand around the weapon's throat. Normally, I would reprimand him for such a violent action, but now all I can think of are praises for his swift thinking. However, I already know it will be too much for The Lady to forget.

"What does that swine speak of?" She questioned to me. Her green eyes were sharp and demanding, fearless to whatever threats I might try and show her. Sharp as the sword she guarded. Sometimes I hate that trait about her. I take in a large breath of air, knowing already how useless it will be to try and sway this topic any other way. She isn't a student I can dismiss, or any subordinate I can send away. She will stay here and question me till Armageddon should she have to, and we'll both live long enough to see it. I release my breath and prepare for what I know will be a hellstorm.

"He has already drawn the blood of a fellow student." And the tension finally snapped.

The Lady moved with speed that betrays her strength, moving before nearly as fast as a dove could fly. Though she held no weapons, her flexed palms bore more than a few sharpened points that would doubtlessly rip my robe and very well shatter my mask. Just meters in front of me am, I able to reach for Spirit who has been freed by the once more proven quick thinking of Stein. With the training my academy has taught him, and the battles have given him, he is already a scythe in my hands sharpened blade extending before, and blocking the vicious stab of The Lady. Just behind her Stein approaches. His soul pushed into his arm for a vicious blow, he aims for her back, hoping to knock the wind from her and possibly incapacitate her. A sound strategy that fails quickly. With her support on Spirit's form and my strength, she spins her other arm behind her, catching Stein's fist with her own clenched hand. The indescribable sound of booming thunder echoes through my chambers with dust fleeing from the scene. And for a moment, we remain there, bound in a quick draw between the four of us. Though I could easily take the upper hand, this is not the time to attack an ally, a spirit such as myself. She has the right to be angry, but she doesn't have the right to harm me and neither I to her.

"Why does he still draw breath then?" She spits the question at me, and unmistakable fury in the eyes of her stone mask. Accusations unspoken flow from it. Rage that has only festered and rotted fueling it. Of all the things I remember of her, this is the trait I wished to remember the least.

"We do not kill him," Stein speak from behind her, forcing her to look at him with the same wrath filled stare. "Because he is my son." The words are heavy, but they do little to calm her, as the force against me is proof of. "I have accepted what he is and so has his surrogate mother. We know it is nothing he can change for now, so we will not hate him for something beyond his control. And if you say that death's embrace is freedom from his cursed life, you would lose your tongue the moment the words left your mouth. For you know nothing of the misery that is his life."

"And you deem such misery a righteous turn for harming others?" The Lady spits backs at the doctor swiftly, the words holding more teeth than I dare to think her physical attacks do. "Does allowing him to practice evil give you peace of mind for his tortured life?"

Though he does not possess the means to do so, I know that Spirit is waiting with wide eyes and open ears for Stein's response, as am I. While Spirit called for blood, and I compromised with confinement, Stein did wish for his freedom, no matter how small it may have been. I can understand his wishes as a father, but as leader, I want to hear him speak just what guided his body, soul, and mind.

"I find it better to keep his peace for the time he has left, then to threaten and harm him to ensure a life full of misery."

What my words could not do, Stein's have. The Lady slowly calms her muscles, tension leaving my arm as the force upon spirit is slowly lifted. Leaning back, and rising up, she slowly begins to stand again, no longer the threatening pose we just held. The anger has yet to leave her eyes, but simply the act of moving out of her battle stance is proof enough that Stein's words have hit a nerve that I know little of. I find myself more and more appreciating of that manic doctor with every passing moment. But if I were to assume The Lady would so easily ask forgiveness for a situation, I would be a king of life, death, and the fools in between.

"He may be your babe, by blood or spirit. He may hold your love, through actions or consequence. He may have suffered, through fate or destiny. I know not what is or isn't deemed true of his life. But know this, Doctor Stein of Shibusen." Her body draws close to the manic doctor, eyes looking down on the man standing to his tallest height. "The curse is more than ambitions and urges. You will witness the truth of his fate, and when you do, I will wish for you to speak again of you unconditional love for that child, for I have seen the maternities of every kind curse the child that has befallen such a damnable thing."

And so the tension returns.

"My Lord Death." A voice speak to me through the mirror, the face of Sid taking the screen. "I was- Oh, I apologize for interrupting your meeting." He goes to close the window. I just can't have that yet.

"No No Sid, we're done." Quite done, thankfully done, finally done. For now. "What is it you needed? Has there been a major Kishin Egg sighting?" Just because the curse of the vampires has returned does not mean the horrors of the world have fled in it's place.

"No, My Lord, it's actually a question I wanted to ask you." Well, that's good news, or at least neutral.

"Then ask away Sid, there isn't much I can't answer." I wonder just what kind of glares Spirit and Stein are giving me right now?

"Well, where is Chrona?" Huh?

"I'm… I'm sure he's on his way Sid. It has been a very traumatizing night for him. Maka Albarn has probably just taken it upon herself to coach him most of the way there." That would be the thing Maka would do for a child like Chrona, but stil…

"Maybe, but Nygus can't find them in the halls, and she has been searching for some time now. Honestly My Lord, I don't think they're in Shibusen at all."

Those words hang on a fine thread.

"Oh."

Before I can utter another word, Stein and Spirit had left my chambers, unwilling to wait for even a moment. The Lady moves till she is next to me, staring into the mirror with those demanding green eyes that I'm sure make even the undead Sid shiver. But through both actions, I can think of nothing else to say.

How could this have happened again?


	13. Chapter 13: Escape

**Author's Note:** Like I said before, college is mean bully and I'm the little guy in the open. I have been hammered with tests, projects, and some of the hardest homeworke ever to grace earth. On top of that, Batman Arkham City came out, and I have since sacrificied all my freetime with a blood crusted knife. Anyways, that's my excuse for another pitifully short chapter, but I hope it's enough to let you know I'm not dead... yet.

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It's a jolt that wakes me up. Not hard, like someone shaking me wake, but definitely enough to make my eyes open. The sensation of feeling slowly returns to me, an immediate reminder that I wasn't in my own bed. I wake up so easily in my own bed, and early too. The way I am now… I'm most likely fell asleep while sitting, letting my head fall to the side. That's why my lower back is sore. It's twisted awkwardly. But where am I right now? What was I doing that made me fall asleep like this?

"Are you awake Maka?" I hear Chrona speak above me. Above me? Why is he above me? It takes a few seconds, and the rough cotton of my gloves against my eyes, but my vision returns to me. There's a padded bench across from us, against a wall. Tilting my head, I see a window just above me, or beside me I guess is the proper term. It's still dark, but it's getting lighter out. I can just make out the images outside, and their moving by at an alarming rate. That brings the memories back to me.

I took Chrona away from Shibusen, and brought him onto a train. I don't remember where the train is going, but I don't remember checking either. It was the first train available, and the tickets were cheap too, enough for me to buy with change on hand. It must be pretty far away, at least a long enough ride for me to sleep through. But… what am I sleeping on? My eyes trail downward till I see the fabric my head is lying on. The bench across from me is a light crimson color, padded with small golden crests of Lord Death. The thing my head is lying in is jet black, and only black. Black… Oh…

I'm lying on Chrona's lap.

I turn my head to look up at him, and he's smiling down at me, crimson eyes half lidded in the bliss that I so rarely get to see cross his face. It's not manic or crazed like the times when the black blood rules him, but a calmer happiness, the kind that I have been striving for so long to give him and the kind he thought himself incapable of ever really having. He's finally showing it to me. Watching that heavenly smile hang on his face, like it was always meant to be there, I can't help but smile in return.

"Yeah, I'm awake." The back of my hand pushes on the seat, raising me off of his lap. The cool hair tingles on the back of my neck, and I almost instinctively pull on Chrona's dress as if it were the covers of my bed, but I stop myself. That would have been an awkward situation.

"What time is it?" I ask meekly with a small stretch of my arms. The muscles in my shoulders must have knotted.

"I don't know, b-but the sun is up." He looks towards the drawn curtains as he says it. I can't find out where, and I'm not sure how, but something in his voice, something away the way he addressed the sun… it made him sound scared. I'm not new to the shy and innocent Chrona, not in the least, but the sun? Something was wrong.

"Do you mind if I open the blinds?" I probe with a question. Not a muscle in my body has moved to do so. I want him to tell me that it's okay.

"I-If you want you can, b-but…" His face hides itself beneath the bangs of his eyes, and I know now more than ever that something is indeed wrong. A sensation of guilt washes over me, knowing that I ruined that rare brilliant smile with my curiosity, but I dash the thought and feeling. I can't help Chrona without knowing what it is he needs.

"But?" I ventured again. This time, however, I placed my hand leg, just above the knee, just enough for him to see, to feel. As close as Chrona grows to me, I know he'll always have doubts. Thankfully, I know how to work around them. His hand ghosts over mine, not sure if he's brave enough to take, if he's allowed to. But his cold skin settles on my gloved appendage, comfort coming from contact alone. Looking back to his eyes, I see the crimson irises looking back at me. The smile from before is gone, but trust is in its place.

"I-it hurt." It hurt? Just h- oh… I forgot. Despite hid coldhands, red eyes, and jagged fangs, I still forgot.

"The sun, right? It burned you." His pink locks dance in the air as his head bobs me a yes. That's what I thought. How could I forget something as important as that? The sun burning him on contact, setting his skin afire to the tough, how am I going to move us out of here? If he walks outside, he'll turn to ash, but we can't stay in the train, it'll only go right back to Shibusen.

I stand up and move to the blinds, giving them a very small tug. It's not much to see out of, but it's enough or me to see while keeping Chrona safe from harm. The sun is up, and it looks like it has been for a while. I'm lucky that there aren't any mountains or trees obscuring the view of the horizon, otherwise it'll make this a whole lot harder. The horizon is roughly 4.5 miles out from my sight, depending on the relative smoothness of the field. The sun hangs one Astronomical unit away from us and makes roughly a 36 degree angle from the horizon. Use an arccosine method, I determine that sun is roughly 1.2 miles into the sky, based on the horizon. Putting that against the time scale of our orbit…

"It's just after 10:00, maybe 10:30. I slept for 8 hours." The last bit was more for myself than Chrona. Somehow my body managed to keep its nightly sleep cycle despite all that's happened. I don't know whether to attribute it to training or peace of mind. But that wasn't what's important. The train ride has been riding for over 8 hours. Given the speed that it was traveling at, we'd have to hit a destination soon. I'm still not sure where, but unless we end up reaching a storm cloud or mountain range, Chrona's going to have trouble leaving. There must be something I can do though, no matter how temporary. Just keep him out of the sun long enough to get a hotel room. He'll be fine in there, at least until we have to move again. But what can I use to get him from A to B?

My green eyes wash over the items available. Just something to cover, something quick. He could duck and walk in my shadow, but that would be awkward and completely dependent upon were the sun was. They my eyes flash to the curtains. They could work, but we'd definitely be stopped by some railway worker once he sees what took, not to mention that doing so would expose Chrona to the sun. The same goes for the cushion fabric, and holding that above his head would be more than just attention grabbing. Maybe he just duck his head into his dress for a little bit, say that he was scared or injured. That might work, but it would only take someone offering to check on him to ruin all that. But… but that's the right track. Hiding him in clothing, but not his clothing.

"Chrona," I say his name to get his attention, though by the way his eyes are following me, I don't think I had to say it, "Would it be okay if I wrapped my jacket around you?"

His jaw opens slightly, and his crimson eyes widen to a degree only a bit less than terrified. I must have said something wrong.

"It's took keep the sun from burning you. As long the light isn't touching you, you should be okay." I place a hand on my chest before continuing. "I'll guide you to a hotel where we can get a room. That'll give us enough time to think of where to go. Does that sound alright to you?" His face had yet to move since I mentioned wrapping my jacket around him. What was he so worried about?

"Chrona, is there something wrong with that?" I'm not perfect, maybe he saw something about my plan that won't work. If that's the case I need to hear it. It's impossible to fix a problem unless you know what it is. For a moment, he pulls his lower lip into his mouth, letting his eyes look away from me. I'm sure if he could, his face would be red with a blush.

"-round me." He spoke so quietly I missed it.

"What did you say Chrona?" I move closer to him as I ask.

"-self around me." Something around him? My jacket?

"Yes, I'll put my jacket around you. We'll just pull it high over your head and let you pull it down to hide your hands as well. It'll be easy to just tell others that your feeling sick, or you got a scar that you very self conscious of, something that will make people back away." It isn't a perfect plan, but by standards of speed, I'm still okay with it. But then he shakes his head. So something is wrong with my idea, but what?

"What is it Chrona, please talk louder." His eyes find me again. With a small intake of breath, he finishes his statement.

"You're going to wrap yourself around me?" What? What? Really? I can't help but let out a giggle at the notion.

"No, no, Chrona. I'm going to be talking my jacket my off for you." His eye light up with realization, followed by his ducking head from what I can easily surmise being embarrassment. Such a silly idea, but it did sound fun. Still, I know that Chrona is innocent, but this is a bit beyond that excuse.

"What made you think I was going to ride on your back Chrona?" I ask moving my own head down, trying to catch his eyes that found an interesting spot on the floor. But as son as my gaze meets his, he looks away with an awkward tilt to his lips. He'd definitely be blushing if he could. But where his eyes rest, I move to meet, causing him to move again. A smile can't help but grow on my face, a simple joy fluttering in my chest as I tease him. Maybe this was why Ragnarok enjoyed it so much, just small harmless annoyances. All together harmless.

"M-Maka." He whines my name like he would Ragnarok, and a small giggle comes from the back of my throat. My hand reaches for his arm, trailing up the sleeves of his dress once I touch him. As soon as I make contact, his fidgeting stops, instead focusing on where I am touching him. His eyes follow my hand, traveling up my coat, and ending on my own eyes.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me?" I smile with my lips and eyes as I look into his crimson irises, no more afraid than any other moment I've watched him. Tentatively, as unsure as he always is, his hand ghosts over mine, slowly holding it harder, with more assurance that I wouldn't leave him suddenly. It's unfounded, and he knows it deep down, but I know right from the start that he's never had this kind of love before, unconditional. So I'll let him poke and prod, wonder with awe, just how far I'm willing to go to keep him safe from harm.

"-to." He's mumbling again.

"C'mon Chrona, you can tell me. What do you want me to hang onto you?" Eyes locked together, he gives me his response.

"I-I just want you close. I d-don't know why…" I'm not shocked by his words. If anything, I'm glad. I'm happy that he wants contact, he wants me close as physically possible. He's already had a taste of my blood, and there's no beyond that, but he's not afraid to have more.

Without another word, a let go of him, standing up and moving behind him. His eyes follow me for a second, but place a hand on his shoulder and turn him away from me. I feel him tense under my touch, unsure if he may have offended me in some way. Normally I'd worry over that, but I don't right now, because I know just how to alleviate those fears.

I placed both of my hands on his shoulders, holding them as a mother would a child, guiding him into a new room. But instead of a push or pull, I slide. I let my gloves run slowly, down his arms, moving against the skin underneath with all the tenderness I can muster with my battle hardened body and soul. I reach his elbows as my chest presses against his back. He tightens at the contact, but he doesn't move away from. He's still shy, so afraid of the small amounts of contact I can give him. But he was the one who wanted me close to him, and if there is anyone request of Chrona I am willing to work for, that is one.

Sliding my hands, I move against his chest, off of his arms. His skin is hard beneath his clothes, mostly from the lack of fat, but the muscles are undeniable. Just beneath this black fabric hides a body riddled with scars, wounds, and history that the keeper of which is afraid to show, afraid that they may frighten away the few who care for him, and afraid that he'll lose what he has. It's fear everyone has, but none to the degree by which Chrona possess. I hate that fear, hate it as much as I do my own cowardice in the face of something powerful. But for all the fear I have, I have the bravery, the courage, to move through it, past it, and eventually beyond. Chrona does not. For all the good he may give, he always is returned with fists, curses, and blades alike. So much evil forced on a child that didn't deserve even a nail's worth of it.

I will do all that I can to take that pain away.

"I'll stay here, just like this, until you want me to move." I spoke as quietly as I could into ear, knowing full well the blush and heat that was coming off my own body. I didn't care, not even a little. And any shred of embarrassment that I had was dashed hard against jagged rocks when I felt Chrona's hands latch onto my arms, holding himself deeper in my embrace. No matter how many times he silently wished for this kind of treatment, I would always answer. He deserved nothing less, but everything more.

It's odd now that I put thought into it, but he and I have gone through every kind of relationship two people can go through. Enemies, friends, companions, ally, and now lover. The only things missing were siblings, but that was one relationship I had no desire to make true, or knowledge how. But still, we had been through so much, both together and apart. Down every road two can travel, and at the end of it all, we were together. Not the purest kind of love, and maybe not the most deep, but I cannot imagine myself away from this pink haired boy that I love now with all my soul. Cursed since birth, cursed in more ways that one, but still always striving to do what made those around him the happiest. He deserved someone to think of him that way. And I will be that person.

"We'll be there soon." I said to him again, "But I'll stay here for as long as you want." He didn't say anything in reply, not at first. He just hugged my arms around his shoulders, leaning his chin down so my thin arms fit beneath his chin. It felt wonderful.

"I love you Maka."

The suddenness of it took the breath from my lungs and brought a tear to my eye. Even though he said it before, even though he expressed it as well. Hearing him say it so assuredly, without any kind of nervousness, unease, or even doubt made me swoon against him. My hold tightened on him with the words, comforted by both his voice and actions. The most cursed boy in all of the world, an probably the most honest to boot.

"I love you too Chrona."

And I don't care what anyone else demands. You are never going to leave my side again.


	14. Chapter 14: Discovery

Chaos had descended upon Death's City once again. Barely a day over the great rush to find the cursed swordsman, and again the Kishin Squad was in another hectic search. Some members woken up far before they could be called well rested, others were given the news just moments before those chose to lie down.

As odd as it was to many who would later ask, Spirit the Death Scythe and Soul Eater Evans searched the city frantically together. It would be told with the explanation that Spirit rose Soul from his bed with the same angry cries the younger of the scythes had become so accustomed to. However, when the words rang true that Maka was no where to be seen in the apartment, Soul did grow frantic with the elders Scythe. The normally level headed teen did let the twisted thoughts of Maka's demise come to his head, through either a lack of sleep or a lack of belief that Maka would so easily run from the city with just Chrona and not a word to him at all. They would be the ones to charge into the rooms of the other members of the Kishin Squad, raising them from their beds with their not-at-all quiet nature. When their small search of familiar places ended, the two were able to grasp the small amount of rationality in their minds, hidden deep beneath their worried psyche.

They would have to search beyond the walls of Death City.

For the boastful ninja present, he saw it as a challenge placed by the meisters, alive and undead. After all, who what other kind of challenge was left for one who had surpassed God, or so he said. Calling it a game of Hide-And-Seek across the world, he took off. Tsubaki followed him close behind, telling the others that she would guide him Arachne's fortress first and they would be sure to call if they found anything. To her, the only place she could see Chrona being most at peace is where Maka destroyed the worst evil of the world. With that she was gone.

The logic the ninja spoke drilled deep into the mind of Soul, as he too thought of where best to being their search beyond the walls. While the ninja thought best of the undead swordsman that accompanied Maka, and him alone, Soul that of where the two would find the most peace. With that thought in mind, he decided to investigate the abandoned lair of Medusa. Where else could they both find more peace then the lair the bore reminders of how Medusa was dead and gone, the worst horror from both their pasts ridden forever? While Spirit cried for his daughter return, Soul took him by the tie and left, assured that along the journey he would better himself. For all the bitterness he had for the old man of his meister, he knew that it took power and courage to become a Death Scythe. That kind of power may be needed if they were heading into witch's territory.

Death the Kid and the twins, alone now in their home, awoken by crazed men with senseless news, thought better than to make judgments beyond their knowledge. By the meister's decree, they would travel quickly to his father's den, for if any soul knew of the best locations to search for the lost one, it was the master of them all. Even the logic aside, he needed to know more than just a shaken father's word that his daughter was gone forever in the hands of some wretched demon. Neither twin spoke against him, for if anyone could put a guess on what to do in a mystery, especially one as odd as this, it would be the son of Death.

The only soul yet unable to search for the lost meisters was the soul who wished to the most. A force unlike any he had experience with dealing with was keeping him from searching the records of every gate, train, and plane in Death City. A force so great, it brought the mightiest of warriors to trembling knees and tears just at the sight.

His beloved other crying in his arms, spilling over and over again the question "Why?" Why was her peace so easily broken just after she was just so assured it would be safe? Why was it Chrona who was so cursed to be lost to the horrors of the world while she was blissful and nearly ignorant? Why was Maka so willing to abandon all gifts and friends she possessed just to take the boy who was like a son to her away from her? They were questions deep in meaning and senseless to answer, the worst kind of questions Dr. Stein like to receive. But they came form Marie, they came from the woman who wanted to have Chrona as a son, despite all the evil he had around and within him. And he was not a man who would tarnish such a dream, not after he came so close before.

Up in the Domain of the Shinigami, Lord Death based his own methods for dealing. He knew better than to send all his meisters and weapons in search of a couple, though precious, souls. He held more power than before in the terms of the search know, knowing the location of each member of the Kishin Squad, as well as his own Death Scythe. But while the search for the cursed swordsman was a dire and urgent matter, he still had others to settle, and they could not be finished by his word alone. He needed the aid of not only his son and his weapons, but also that of the long lost ally, now found.

It was by his decree that the Lady of the Lake would be led to the resting place of the greatest weapon ever made, and oldest weapon still living. Cryptic as his words were, it didn't take long for the look of dread to mare Death the Kid's face, nor long for the face of the armored Lady to grow the ghost of a smile.

* * *

The Platinum haired woman moved just behind me as we ventured into the cave. I have little idea how she can stand walking in the filthy water of the river or can stand the idea of the water splashing against her armor in an unsymmetrical pattern. Small chimes sounded against the stone with each drop of water that fell from the ill uniform ceiling against her beautifully crafted and masterfully smelted armor. The aqua of her slowly smeared under the dirt and grim that each drop of water carried, ruining the glorious sight of her perfectly polished and maintained steel plating. But what the filthy water can never ruin is the single most important facet of her entire character.

She is perfectly symmetrical. From the spikes to her hair, to her features, to her gauntlets, to her greaves, there is not a thing out of place. It is all perfectly preserved and beautiful in every meaning and description of the word. How long had my father been keeping such a glorious warrior as this in secret? How long was she in hiding? With a warrior as symmetrical as herself, it would be no cost of energy to defeat any enemy of my father. It would be-

"Ouch!" The sudden shout throws me off balance. Or rather… it throws Liz off balance. Quickly she attempts to right herself, be on her back with umbrella positioned for protection. On a single leg, her free leg tangles and sways in hope to correct herself, but she's still falling! We're going to fall into the filthy water and I'll be ridden with horrible unsymmetrical stains, ruining any chance I have of impressing this perfectly symmetrical warrior. It would be worthy of death if I-

"Be steady now." I hear her words before I feel her gauntlet on my torso, holding me above the water as if I weighed less than Liz's hat. Neither Liz nor I have a drop on us, aside from the boots that she so conveniently wears. Looking up, I see that my perfectly symmetrical warrior is holding us both with the same placid expression. We really do weigh less than nothing to her. She is not only symmetrical, but she has no just saved me from ruining the symmetry of both my and Liz. She's a hero in every sense of the word!

"Thank you with all the blessings of my father upon you!" I nearly yell to her as she lifts me and my faithful weapon back up to our prior placement. "You have saved me from a most dire incident that I fear would take me hours to correct! You truly are a marvelous warrior, in both skill and appearance." She raises a single eyebrow as I give her my compliments and praise, as if she's disturbed by the honest words I spill for her ears. But I means nothing, that deep within that doubtless symmetrical mind of hers she is warm with the words I am giving her. There is no reason for one with matching gauntlets, torso, hair, eyes, and…

Wait. Her knee. Her left knee. The armor there is different. Her right knee is smooth. Her left is sharp. Her right knee has nothing on it. Her left knee has a spike. Her right knee is short. Her right knee is stall and dangerous. Ill symmetrical. Not the same. Different. Hideous! What a disgusting atrocious piece of design that is! Who would make such a mockery of life as to make this armor so unsymmetrical and then place it before me? A lose of all reason and honesty is the ONLY reason for something so disturbing to still be present on my father's earth.

"Unhand me vile creature!" I shriek at what I know now must be a harpy in disguise. Instantly, she removes her hand, the same apathetic expression lain across her face. I right myself on top of Liz, placing my protective umbrella shield above my head. I would no longer look at the disgusting thing that calls itself a "Lady". It has already passed boundaries to be able to say it has an old acquaintance with my father, let alone asking favors from him.

But still… I must show her the way to that betraying blade. They would compliment each other. One perfectly symmetrical and utterly repulsive, the other completely misaligned but with the manners of a noble. With luck, they'll be able to form one perfectly symmetrical warrior. Maybe. But until then she is just another disgusting excuse for life.

Looking just to my left, I see Patty looking at me with those oddly enlarged eyes of hers. They are almost begging in their manner, complete with a shrunken mouth and a single finger placed to hide what little she cannot make disappear. Though I am unfamiliar with the term, I believe I remember Soul once calling it… "Puppy Eyes." Perhaps she wants me to be sympathetic to this ill constructed warrior for a horribly fated demise. But why should I? She is the one who is so grossly deformed, and refusing to change, at least I'm sure she'd refuse to change. No matter. We must continue our march for the blade by my father's command, and then I will be done with this unworthy specimen.

"May I request the level of which you know of this… Chrona child?" Her question gives me pause, and I wonder to myself briefly if I should even answer her at all. What better way to show an unsymmetrical creature her place then by refusing to give voice to her curiosities? Sadly, her question is answered despite me.

"Chrona's a good friend of ours!" Patty exclaims with all the exuberance that I have come to know her for. "He helped fight off Kishin Eggs, saved Maka, and even helped to defeat Medusa. He's a good guy!" Her arms fly into the air as she declares his alliance. Still… I do not speak a word. She has said nothing that I disagree with.

"Plus, when you get close to him, and go like this." With those words, I watched Patty proceed to sandwich her face between her palms, pushing her mouth out and bulging her eyes as wide as she could. I still have no words to describe how I felt. "He'll always shy away and cry 'I don't know how to deal with that' or 'I can't understand something like this' and sometimes it's, 'Maka, what is she doing?'"

I didn't miss the monster's brow perk.

"So he holds a value of affection for this… Maka?" Her words are carefully chosen even, but even the most hideous of objects are hidden under kind gowns. Until that unearthly, unusual, unethical spike is removed from her knee, and perfect symmetry is again achieved, there is no reason for me to take anything she is saying at more than what it is. A poor guise to investigate into her own curiosity, nothing to be rewarded.

"You can say that." Liz spoke from beneath me, her breath hitching only for a moment as she carried my weight. "But I'll bet my life that affection don't quite cover the amount of love the two have for each other." I can hear the smile grow on her lips as she speaks, no doubt relishing the idea she has been playing with since we last saw the two. Like Patty before her, I don't dare venture into the mind of my weapon.

"Monstrous." She whispers. You should know, monster.

Silence fell on us then, and I relished the feeling. I can now focus on completing the task set forth for me by my father, than return to aid my friends in searching for Maka and Chrona. No doubt with our joint efforts, we'll be able to track the in only a small fraction of the time. The only question is what must be done in order to be the most efficient, and symmetrical, about the search.

If I venture by air, I'll be able to scoop out the most likely locations for the two to hide in, directing Patty and Liz on where to search. No doubt Black Star and Tsubaki will be moving at non-stop speeds until they are found. The quick searches of our ninja weapon master will be easily compensated by the detail oriented Tsubaki, making their search patter sporadic, but efficient enough to not miss a vampire. Truthfully it is Soul I am most worried about, and only because he does not have Maka with him. As wise as he is, I have seen his train of thought over the years. He thinks better off of improving ideas than thinking of his own, using them as a starting point really. He is no fool, not like the fool behind me, but unless he has someone to throw ideas at him, I doubt he will be as effective. Besides, searching alone means he is only one, One, an uneven unsymmetrical number. That simply cannot due. He must be paired with someone, even just temporarily, in order to make it work better.

"Is that it?" Patty's words distract me from my thoughts, and I look to where here finger is indicating. Sure enough, my vision matches hers and I see the object of her question. It is indeed the item we have come to collect, by my father's orders, and the monster's wishes. And though it is still one of the mot beautifully symmetrical items I have ever seen, blessing the cave with it's perfectly balanced and smooth shine, I can only do one thing.

Grimace in disgust.

"Indeed, that it is." The Lady speaks behind me, and then steps beyond me, not waiting even a moment for me to go before her. But that is fine. A monster like her should be the first to suffer through the infuriating weapon's speech, deal with the thing that guise itself with perfection. In fact… while that miserable weapon calls itself perfect despite all of its flaws, the creature that now approaches it holds a mask of apathy to hide the shame of its own flaws. The two must match perfectly, almost… symmetrically.

"So what are you going to do now?" Liz asks as she steps on solid ground. Taking her notion, I release my weight from her back, letting her stand to her tallest. A few eye-twitching cracks fill the room.

"Now I attend to an ancient matter. If you wish to depart, you may. This matter concerns little of you now." I cannot speak for Liz or Patty, but I am insulted by the words.

"Creature," I begin, to which I see her brow rise again. "I have brought you here by my father's orders, and nothing more. You are a stranger to me and my companions, not an enemy but not yet an ally. If you wish to earn trust from our side, than whatever you are about to do, we will stay to witness it." Arms folded, I hold my ground. No words the harpy can even dream of will make me leave this cave.

"If you so choose, you may stay." Too easy.

"Then what are you going to do Misses Lake?" Patty asks with a finger to her mouth, eyes wider than her gut. Though I note the expressions of my weapons, all my focus is left to woman who mocks a knight's armor.

"If you desire to know the fine details, you will wait till I am complete. For now, know that you are about to witness the union of weapon and meister long since and broken for the sake of balance and peace." Not once through her immaculately spoken speech did she give more than a hint of emotion, and the amount she gave was not enough to tell her mysteries. A raised brow, a flexed hand, stone face, nothing. It's not nearly enough for me to tell what she plans.

"I just want to know why we have to see that thing again." Liz speaks with a pointed finger. "Last time that thing bothered us at Shibusen, I almost wanted to shoot myself just so I wouldn't have to hear another word from it." A bit harsh, but she speaks true words. I can name very few that can deal with it's speeches, let alone it's personality.

"This thing is the holiest blade in creation." Her voice is rising. "It is the purest weapon known to man and beast alike." Both arms are flexed. "Only one man every generation is fit to hold the blade you see before you." Pupils are expanding. "Do not dare speak ill of it, for it will be a mortal mistake to do so." Brows furrowed! She's angry! Bless you by my father's name Liz you brought out the real beast before us! Where I not trying to guise myself before it I would break symmetry to hug you… briefly. But I'll save that honor for later. Now, I'm more than curious as to the relationship between this meister and weapon before me, both older than I have ever known.

That little outburst of hers brought back the cover of silence, and again I'm thankful for it's wrapping. It makes the events to come so much more rewarding to witness, as it usual does. The only sound I hear besides the dripping water and other more solid objects from the ceiling is the movement of her armor. It is not as heavy, or not as large, as armor that I have seen on the displays at home and in books, but wearing full metal as she is does not breath a quiet atmosphere. From the creaking of metal on metal to the clattering of falling steel, she produces plenty enough sound to keep the air from filling with too much tension.

Before the blade now, the blade I once thought near the divinity of my father, she stops with her head bowed. Like a stone, she remains still for some time, doing little more than breathing, which I can only tell by small bits of cloud that form in the chilled air. Slowly she began to move, lowering herself to her knee before the blade. It was not a bow, but merely a change of height. It was easy to discern by the moment of her head, the way her eyes remain on the blade, and not the ground before it.

"Excalibur, it is I." She spoke in a voice kinder and richer with emotion than I have heard yet, even the moment before she was almost rage induced. "Your rest is at an end, for the world calls upon us once more."

"Fool!"

I hate that voice.

In a quick flash of light, the familiar and disgusting true form of the "legendary" blade appeared before the Lady of the Lake, hat tall, cane taller, and whiter than the harshest blizzard in the brightest day. Oh how I curse myself for every thinking that such a perfect weapon ever truly existed. What a fool I was to have been tricked by the same guise as Black Star himself was. It is so shameful!

"Hey Kid." Liz speaks to me with a small nudge. It pulls me from my most unnerving thoughts. I will have to thank her twice now. Good, that's an even number.

"Yes Liz?"

"Why isn't that jerk of a blade giving the Lady a harder time? Back at the school, that thing could barely walk down a hallway without making someone guess a number." That… that was very true…

"I don't know, but we will soon discover the reason for that." I at least so hope I do. For now, all I can do is watch and listen to the exchange of the ancients before me. This will be most interesting.

"Nearly two millennia since we parted and a fool is all you can mark me as?" Her voice is neither sinister nor harsh… but it is less kind than the greeting she offered before.

"No! That is that is not only all I can call you, it is the most anyone can call you!" That mockery of symmetry proclaims as it points is cane at the Lady, barely enough room between tip and head for air to pass between, and yet she did not react. At least now I know she has been trained in battle before.

"People of nobility and peasantry have made my name as such through the jaws of history, if the words I hear on the streets are to be understood correctly." I hear her breath a deep breath of air. No doubt from guilt. "I am nothing in the legends of past, my friend. No longer am I the holy symbol by your side, but now a memory left for only the wisest few. Your name is remembered for your strength deeds. I am forgotten for my apathy and duty."

"Fool!" I hate that word every moment he speaks it. From the grimace on Liz, she does as well. Patty… is impossible to damper. "My legend began in the 17th century! There is no reason for you to hold a position as mine." His cane hits the ground for what I assume is to be striking a point, but the soft thud from it's low weight does little besides his words.

"And my legend never began. Only a myth is left to my name, and one that none remember." If I were to think of her as human, I would assume that she is speaking with a hint of sorrow in her voice. But I know that to be false, by both her age and disgusting level of dissymmetry.

"But I remember you!"

We all turned to stare at Patty.

She still had that blissfully ignorant look of happiness about her. Cheeks pink with joy and smile bright. Her arms were held to either side of her as she tried to balance one leg. Why? I can only guess boredom, but why she is bored now of all times, or why she just spoke the words she did, I truly do not know.

"Just… what do you know of me?" While I would imagine her voice to be filled more with shock than anything else, I can only pick up on the barest amounts of curiosity as if she was some inquisitor. Still, her wonder for Patty's words is a thought I share with the demon in disguise.

"I read tons about you in that book Kid has. He used to keep the foot of his bed, but when said 'I no longer believe in this book's lies', I wanted to read it! It's so hard to find anything that Kid dislikes that is perfectly even, I wanted to know what it was!" Her smile only grew with every word she said, as if she thought she was explaining some great mystery to us. I know of the book that she speaks of, the one Black Star and I read in order to better understand Excalibur the first time we left to search for it, but I had assumed Liz returned it to the library for me. I had no idea nor imagination that Patty would take it, or even understand it.

"You read a story that I held a place in?" Patty nodded eagerly to the Lady's question. I know another is sure to follow. "What did this story tell of?"

"It was a long and very serious story about a place called Camelot. It kept talking about knights and castles and monsters and swords and grails and lots and lots of battles! It was even really sad in a few parts too. I don't like Morgan Le Fe." She ended her poor description with a huff, one that Liz and I are more than used to when the younger of the twins feels down.

"So YOU read of my legend then." That horrid betrayer of symmetry speaks from behind the Lady of the Lake. His small legs march forward as if he has the pride of a kingdom upon his name. I can no longer be sure he doesn't.

"Yep! You were in it! That's why Kid was so interested in it at first. But I liked the parts with King Arthur the most!" She must have hit a note. I do not know what the phrase was, or the words she used, though I can guess, but when the sentence was finished leaving Patty's lips, I saw what I wished from the iron maiden.

Shock.

Truly I wished to see any emotion on her face, with rage and a small amount of sorrow already accounted for, but I feared shock would be nigh impossible with her, as her stone face was as hard as the metal she adorned. But some word, probably the name of the king my father spoke of, sent this "lady" into a gasp of disbelief. Why? What about him, what connection to him did she share? Truthfully, I never read far enough into the book to see, and no more than ever, I curse myself for not finishing a story. But how could I? It ended on page 1193. That is a horribly ill symmetrical letter in every possible manner! It was much better to end on page 888. Perfectly even and easy to see.

But then what was in those last few chapters? What did Patty read, Patty who has trouble focusing on a simple homework assignment let alone an entire book that took even me patience to understand, find that was so amazing about this Lady? Was it who she really was? Was the Lady afraid because Patty know could tell us she was truly a harpy in holy armor? A fraud friend to my most esteemed father? What?

"But I wanna ask you miss Lady a question." Patty practically skipped to the Lady, as ignorant to the size difference and clear tension she was creating with her words. I only hope she does not ask a damning question, for fighting a friend of my father, no matter how wicked or distasteful she is in my eyes, would only portray me and father alike in falsehoods of wrath and rashness.

"What, pray tell, do you wish to know of me?" The cool steel of her voice matched the armor she wore. Sleek, delicate, but bending to no force except it's own. If Patty asks the wrong thing, phrases the wrong question, I fear I may not be able to react fast enough to save her. The tension on Liz's face is far greater than mine, from what my golden irises can tell. I'm biting a lip, she gnawing it.

"Why'd you leave King Arthur? I mean, you loved him, right?"

That is most likely the wrong thing to ask.

A cold breath of air is drawn upon the lips of the Lady of the Lake, as I can see her shoulders rise with the will to control her doubtlessly growing rage. Now of all times I would wish for my father's aid. Before my very eyes I see her soul churning with emotion. Just moments before I watched as she took my insults and words with a mask of apathy, but her very soul shows the depths of her emotion that she kept from me, and now I wish to see anything but. It is as Soul once told me. Curiosity killed the cat. Truthfully, I was hoping he was talking about Blair…

"That…" she begins, another breath being drawn to control what I imagine is a maelstrom within her soul now. "Is a question I have pondered within my soul for centuries, and one that has no answer on all of God's Earth. For you to ask that question, a child I have never known in a land I have long been absent, I can find no words to describe what I feel." I believe her with as much faith as I believe she has.

"You fool! That is why you left!" The white body of the blade exclaims, and I still see little reason to hold back a grimace. "If you had simply called upon me, then all these matters wouldn't be needed! Since the 17th century I have been capable of stopping evils, and you let your own duty be damned for a simple crush? Fool I say! What say you?" He accuses with a point of his cane, and the Lady does nothing at his words, not even a blink of an eye. Silence reigns in the cave, and even the fairies that give us the natural light have ceased their flight. My mouth starts to dry with the tension.

"Now in the moment I wished to be jovial, I must now confess a love centuries dead." She turned to me, then Liz, Excalibur, and settling on Patty. Bless her or curse her by my father's name, I know not which one, but she still is ignorant to the danger she is very likely in. She takes slow strides in her armor to the younger of my twin blades, and I instinctually crouch for a charge. I do not trust, I have no need to trust her, and now I have reason to believe she will harm the one who caused her emotion. This is not something I wish to do, not to a friend of my father.

But she doesn't attack. She doesn't raise a hand or draw back a foot. Instead, she kneels. Her left knee, the one that holds that unbearable sharp and ill placed spike upon it, lowers to the ground as she bends to Patty's height. Still the girl does nothing more than smiles and wobbles back and forth on spot. I sometimes envy her ignorance. She wouldn't know her death until she saw my father.

"I will tell you all that there is to tell, from my words and no others, but I will do so in a place that is fitting and proper. Here, now, it is not the place, though the time is fast approaching." She turned from Patty then, looking back to the object that we had ventured for to begin with. Rising from the thin layer of water, she looks at the blade with the mask of apathy again upon her face, and her soul steeled away from the emotion I just witnessed it bear.

"Excalibur," she spoke, and to my shock he did not answer nor interrupt. "The monsters that damned the old world are returning, and we must now raze our arms and will with the warriors of this new one. Will you aid me in this quest, in the way you wished to all those years ago?" She extended her hand to the prime and proper blade, metal gauntlet appearing as vicious as a snake. I watched the blade tilt his head, for once not insulting the person who spoke to him, and even thinking on what they said. Watching the exchange, as small as it would be for any other couple, was forcing my breath to catch in anticipation.

Slowly his hand left its cane, extending to the Lady's clawed gauntlet. I could tell from his actions how hesitant he was, and that by itself was on add sight. I have not wished to pay much attention to the blade, not after my first encounter at least, but I could tell from what I have observed just how rare it is for him to have any form of hesitation to his actions. He does little without his own desire, and nothing for anyone without compensation for his damned rules. But now… for this Lady… he does nothing for himself asides from her own words.

Just what did I miss in those last few pages? What was the nature of the connection shared by this meister and weapon? Just what happened to-

My questions cease at the sight that transforms before me.

As the small white peg that is Excalibur's hand touches the cool steel of the Lady's gauntlet, a light begins to grow between the two. It is small at first, mistakable for the many fairies that still bless the air around the cave, but it quickly becomes clear that that is not the case. It glows brighter than any of the small fairies, and soon bright enough to force me to shield my eyes. Still it grows brighter and brighter still. A small cry of pain reaches my ears, and I recognize it immediately as Liz. But I cannot look to her, I cannot see her. Even with my hands up and shielded, the light is just too bright. I cannot see a thing. But then, a new sense reaches me, something else other than my sight.

It is comforting warmth. A glow of heat that is more soothing than even a perfectly symmetrical home. It fills my soul in a way I thought given only by absolute peace. I let it flow through me like water, drowning myself in the sensation. It fills every part of me to an equal degree, no part too hot or too cool, no spot neglected or scorned. I am completely immersed in it, and I love every moment of it.

Then all at once, it stops. Too sudden for me to prepare and too harsh to make reality acceptable. A gasp of breath fills my lungs, one I did not know I required, and I feel myself fall to my knees. My thoughts are too scrambled for me to even phrase a question, and all I can do is focus on controlling my body after such an experience. It takes minutes at least, possible an hour, before I am confident enough to move properly again. The first and only, action I take, is too look to where the light began, in an almost ill quenchable hope that a fragment of that light would still be there. But as I could know through small amount of logic, it is not. Instead, what I see is what I last saw.

The Lady of the Lake is standing before me, alone on the small alter. There is no white creature around her, mocking us, filled with false pride and prejudice. She is completely alone from what I can see, until I see what has settled on her back.

It is the blade of heaven, Excalibur.

"Congratulations, Kid, Elizabeth, Patricia." Her voice forces my head to shake, focusing me on her. A small, almost prideful smile, has settled on her once stone cold features, and I find it more fitting than the façade of apathy she had before.

"You witnessed the opening of heaven's gate. Did you enjoy what you witnessed?"

She continued to smile, and I did not speak a word.

* * *

The reunion of the holy duo was a union witnessed by the son of death and his most trusted companions, graced only else by the eyes of the fairies and dim light of the cavern. No other witnessed the return of Heaven's guardian, or the Blade of All Evil's Exile. Many in time would proclaim that it was overseen by the greatest warriors and most powerful weapons of all time, but they would be speaking only of romanticism of the past. Others would say that they never once parted from one another, but they would be in doubt that such a turning point in the times to come could possibly be given so little value before. In truth, the most powerful of things happen in the most mundane of times and locations. They are seen by few and told by fewer, but they become the legends that stroke the Earth with their power, might, will, and bravery. They are the things so powerful and great amongst the most mundane that they must be changed, twisted, altered into things that live as legends above myth or fantasy.

From revelations to epiphanies and meetings amongst the long forgotten and abandon, they rarely happen in the ways authors and poets word them. It is rarely amongst a battle, and never before a crowd. They are seen by few, told by fewer, yet managed to be celebrated by all. But all celebrations begin with a single soul, a single body, seeing what is rare for the eyes to see, and preparing to spread the word in any way they can.

For one such being, it watched the union of the sword and weapon with as much vigor as the youngest of the guns, as much awe as the eldest, and fascination as the meister. It watched with wide eyes and a wider smile, a faux form of joy spreading through its being. And through its eyes, its master felt all the same.

* * *

It has been such a long time. A time long enough for even I to say it has been to long. Those who use those words do no truly know what length of time is considered to be long. It is not a relative measurement, nor a state of mind. A long time is simply long enough for lives to being and end. Long enough for history to be written anew. Long enough for legends to part into myth, and for the lore to be forgotten.

For me, it has been a long time, such a long time since I've seen that blade, seen that armor, seen that resolve, and see that power. The power that I was once so close to owning, so desperate to seize, but foolish enough to think it would come so easily. It has been such a long time since I have had this opportunity again, to hold the power of Heaven's guardian in my hand, to feel the power that rivals that of Reaper, the master of life and death, the river master of the end, my eternal rival.

But it is odd to see what I see besides the blade and meister. Directing the head of my pet, I look to the other three forms of life that inhabit the cave of the holy weapon. Two are weapons, as they enjoy to be called. I am scarcely familiar with their forms, but from I have learned, they are called "guns." An odd contraption that I can only barely recall being researched so long ago. But they are not what I find odd, or intriguing. It is the one they call "Kid", the one who escorted the Lady to the dwelling of Heaven's Blade. The one who holds an apparent loathing for the unsymmetrical of the world.

The one that is the child of my greatest enemy.

For all the ways I have pondered and wonder about besting the Reaper, not once did I consider breaking his spirit through his child. But I never imagined him to hold a son of his own. Master of life and death, and he creates a life simply to watch it die? I find too many questions within such logic, and I know better than to stumble in the dark. There is more to that boy than I give credence to, but he is not the greatest concern on my list. I many things to ponder, plan, and enact, things I have been planning since that day long long ago. But there is one thing, one body, one new slave that will make my list easier to finish.

Looking to my servant, not the first I have taken, certainly no the last, but by far the most useful so far. A true diviner in arts of stealth and deception, knowing the twists and turns in the hearts and souls of the beings of this new realm, who held tastes and ideas so different to the kind I once grew to joy the feast upon. But that is a far off time, a long time, and now I have this new world, this new land, and this new slave.

Her hair is longer than most, even for the feminine ones. It is such a rare color to, an a hideous one at that. Bright like the sun, the cursed orb in the sky. But her eyes, her skin, her soul… they were all that of a creature I have not thought the benefit of in a long time, such a long time. Slippery to the touch, but sharp in the blow. Deadly in approach and damning upon strike. She really is a beauty in form and once spirit, almost as cruel and cunning as I, but seeing too little of what the world of darkness really is capable of. She played in the shadows like a thief in the night, attempting to steal innocence with cunning tricks, but always making the fatal mistake of letting herself be known.

Her memories are a delicious treat to ponder upon. So many different paths of history she influenced from behind veils of rage and petty arguments among her own kind. The right amount of doubt placed on the right person, and she could bring about every detail of her plan. Awakening a demon that appeared to be a challenge for my long time rival, creating a boy with blood as black as my own soul, and stealing herself under the shadows of everyone's gaze. She truly is a master of the art, but still with so little idea of how close she came to being unstoppable. It is good that I saw her tricks from the blood of her son, her lies from the pain in his mind. Without them, I may of missed her, let her essence that so easily was evading detection around the boy go unnoticed.

It amazes me still that even since so long ago, none have been able to properly sneak around me. I am too welded with the shadows, and too keen to the noises of the dark, for others to approach my form without my notice. Yet this being, this once proud and deceitful creature, had been venturing around her son with such ease, and not even I noticed her presence until I had known what to search for. Just meters away from me the entire encounter I shared, and not even a flinch was given when I drew upon her son. Cold and dark as the night, and slippery and scaly as the creature that I use to watch my prize in action. I truly am… "blessed"… to have found her as a slave. But every servant, every slave, has to be given credit when more than their purpose is served. And this… witch is no different.

"**Your creatures do well in areas mine cannot**." Hey golden eyes look to me, fright and fear strong in her gaze. I relish the emotion. "**Bats** **carry too heavy a sound to be proper tools to spy with, and so little areas exist for them to perch on out of sight of unwanted eyes. But your snakes, your slithering deceivers, hide well and move craftier than my own winged demons of the air.**" A small, a very small, smile lifts itself upon her mouth. Under my own gaze, I know it be happiness for serving me. She is proud to have done me well, as she should be. But my words were meant to encourage her to do more, not to give her happiness for herself.

I simply must fix that.

"**Just as true cowards have done in times both new and old, since long ago, they hide and run from all they see.**" I watch a quick shock of anger flow through her eyes, but when my eyes reach her own gaze, and realizes it, it quickly dies for proper obedience. "**They do not attempt anything without assurance, and do nothing without guarantee. True cowardice in a pure form.** **However, this raises a fair question within my mind.**" I speak as I approach her, and she fidgets in her spot. Too afraid to move, but too worried to hold still. I haven't seen such fear since long ago, and I plan to make such a feeling course through her for the rest of her days in my servitude.

I raise my hand up to her face, letting the smooth texture of my glove glide over her porcelain features. She flinches under the touch, staring at my hand as if it were one of her own creatures preparing to strike. She is not far off in her assumption. Slowly, I let it down her cheek, letting my palm rest just under her chin. Never once do I let my cold smile slip. She is a very calculating and manipulative woman, she knows what I enjoy already, and if not, she soon will. I let my hand travel down her skin further, letting her still alive nerve endings tingle under my touch.

Slowly, I grip her harder and harder, the skin under my fingers creasing with the dip. Her eyes widen in nothing short of pure fright and shock. Her own hands rise to my own, desperately and fruitlessly trying to pry my fingers from her throat. I do not attempt for even a moment to hide the laughter that rises in my throat. Watching her life sit in my hand, knowing that at any moment I desire I can end her, is a feeling of mirth and excitement that I have not known for the longest time, such a long time. But I no longer have to wait any further to enjoy these things I have gone without.

I drop her then, watching as she collapses at me feet. Her eyes are still wide, breathing deep gasps of air in desperation to fill her lungs. Her eyes look to my own then, the pain of her experience outlaid just above her newly resolved fear of me, a fear I will nurture until it is a part of her soul. She is clever, but I will not risk to lose a chance for teaching a lesson, especially not to my newest slave.

"**For all the powers you have grown and raised in this new world, know they are nothing when faced against a force as old as I. You have brought me a gift in the body of your child, and your child is a servant I have given the gift of darkness to. But you, witch of snakes, will never receive such a gift. Do you wonder why?**" Her eyes look to mine, and I know she is thinking. Thinking thoughts she hopes I cannot read. Such pride fills me again, letting me make a fool out of a queen in chess.

"**Correct, young witch,**" her eyes shoot to my own again, shock filing her with fresh fear. "**Servants of my kind need to be spread for my domain to grow. But to live the eternal life I am due, I require blood… not of my own. Blood, as rich and powerful, as let us say, a witch.**"

She is trying to escape again. How wonderful to watch. Easily, I step into the shadows of my castle. Walking through the domain only I can traverse. In it, I see all that exists in the shadows, kept from the light and hidden from goodness. It is my domain, and mine alone. And when I leave my domain, I appear just before the witch, still raising herself to her feet as she turns, only to run into my form. Her mouth is open in terrified shock as she looks to my face. I still feel my mirthful smile on my lips. Before she can turn to flee again, I grasp her shoulders with only small amount of strength, hardly a straw of hay compared to the bundle. Still, I feel her muscles bruise beneath me. Delicately then, I lower my head next to her own, letting the scent of her very life flow next to my senses.

It is so different than what I am used to, unlike anything I've had long ago, so long ago. This would be my first witch I would ever feast on, and I am glad once more that I found one as powerful, deceitful, cunning, agile, and helpless as the one I have now. Her hell truly will be heaven, and very body and soul will be mine forever, as the slave she always wished to make others to her. Irony, I love the term.

"**Be proud Medusa, and do not fear for your death, you will be meal for centuries to come.**"

As my fangs sink into her white flesh, and a strangled cry of pain releases itself from her throat, I am pleased to learn one most pleasing fact.

She truly is a delicacy.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Has it been a long time since I've uploaded here? No? Yes? Maybe? Probably. Any way, I am going to try and get in a new chapter once every 2 weeks now, as my new goal. New Year's resolution and all. Rate and review, for those who had the patience to wait for this, thank you again!

KTWizard


	15. Chapter 15: Pondering

**Author's Note:** While I'm glad that I'm still getting reviews for this story, shockingly, I've got a fair amount of people more confused than shocked by the return of Medusa. It's my fault for not putting enough of a dialogue to explain that, but hopefully I can fix that in the next few chapters. Probably not this one, but we'll see how long I plan to make this. And while I'm at it…

**WARNING!** **The following chapter contains an excessive detail to violence that may be too graphic for some readers. While it is not smutty or even involving sex, the details will hinge on the caliber of a Saw movie. You have been warned.**

Enjoy!

* * *

She's taking care of me again, just like she always does when I do something wrong. Defending me against Death, searching for me against orders, playing with me when I'm alone, and now hiding me when I'm being hunted. She does everything for me, and never stops trying to help me? Why? I don't understand, I can't deal with it. But I… I want to know why. I want to know why she does so much to help me, when I've done almost nothing to help her. Does she pity me? Does she fear me? I couldn't deal with her telling me that. I wouldn't be able to deal with it at all!

But… But she doesn't think of me that way. No… No… She does like me, care for me at least. I hope she does, because I can't think of any other reason for her to help me like this… And… And I love having her help me, knowing that no matter what she will always be there to defend me. I can deal with that, now at least. But if she will help me like this… then… then I'll do whatever she wants.

I'll fight for her, protect her, help her, and die for her. There isn't much I can do, not much besides kill. My mother told me that, and Lord Death, and Mr. Spirit, and Ragnarok, and… and almost everyone… except Maka. But… but I am good at it, and if that's all I can do to help Maka, then I will do it, as long as she says it's okay to. It… It might even be easier now. My angel did always tell me to look for the good in everything, like she did for me, so… so maybe there is good in this.

I don't get tired, at least I haven't gotten tired yet, and I haven't eaten or drank anything. That's good, which means I won't burden her any more with that. The less work she needs to do for me the better, because it means she has to worry less about me. I want her to be near me, I want to be near her, but I don't want her to feel bad helping me. I don't know how to deal with hurting Maka, at least not again.

"We're here Chrona." My angel whispers into my ear, her arms still around me with a tender embrace. I don't want to move. Moving would mean leaving her arms, but I like her holding me. I can deal with this. But… But Maka knows best, and I don't want to be a burden on Maka.

"O-Okay." Hesitantly, I rise from the seat, feeling the train beginning to slow as I stand. Where are we going to stop? Is it far away from Shibusen? Are we far enough? Is anywhere far enough? Will Maka be okay with this? Am I being a burden on her? I tighten my grip on her as the questions continue to accuse me. As long as she's here, none of it matters. Maka said so. She will always stay with me, and nothing anyone else says matters, not even myself.

"Hold on, I almost forgot." I stop immediately, waiting for her. I watch as she slides her black overcoat off her shoulders, her shoulders shrugging off the long dark material as a content smile sits on her lips. Her listen to the fabric move off her, the very ends collecting on the floor in a huddle. I'm curious to why she's doing this, but I'm more worried than that. Why would she be stripping now? But I can forget why, only because I'm watching her strip. I'm watching my angel remove her clothes! I can't deal with this! Not like this! No! I shut my eyes hard as black coat is completely removed. I've already seen her remove so much, I don't want to see her remove anymore. Or… I do want to… b-b-but it would be wrong! So wrong to hurt Maka like that, again…

"Done." Done? She's already done? That was so fast! But if she's done… th-th-then that m-m-means she's.. sh-she's n-na- I can't open my eyes now! No! Not at all!

"C'mon Chrona," My angel, my most likely n-n-n-nude angel, calls to me. "We don't want them to find us like this." No! No! I don't want anyone to find her like this! B-B-But what does she need me for? D-D-Does she want me to… to do that as well? W-W-W-Why?

"Silly, we went over this. They won't suspect as long as we're together." W-What? Why would they not suspect anything when my angel is n-n-n-n… NAKED! That would cause so many questions, make so many people stare at us and think of us in horrible ways! I couldn't deal with that! How can my angel think this is best for me? What is my Maka think-

"Chrona." She says my name, and her hand rests on my shoulder. But… but something else is there. Not just my dress, or her glove, but… something else. I'm afraid to open my eyes, afraid that I will see my angel, and that my evil eyes will taint her perfect form. I couldn't deal with doing that to my precious Maka! But… but I trust Maka… my angel, and… and she wouldn't hurt me like that. She… she is not like my mother… not at all, so… so it is safe. I let my eyes open, squinting in fear that I will see her bare, but she isn't. Hardly at all. Only her jacket is missing from her. My eyes open fully as I follow her arm to my shoulder, watching as her hand leads me to her jacket, covering my shoulders, and hanging over my head.

I'm such an idiot.

"You forgot, didn't you?" She gives me small smirk as she asks the question. It reminds me of Ragnarok, how he always asked questions that he knew the answers to, waiting for me to say the thing I couldn't deal with saying. I nod my head at her words, a small amount of shame filling me regardless to the playful smile she has. I know she would never hurt me… but… but I still don't like it that much.

"You're silly Chrona, what were you thinking I was going to… do…" Wait? Does she know what I was thinking? Did she suspect that I suspected that she was going to remove her clothes? Will she think I'm disgusting? Will she hate me? I can't have her hate me! Maybe if I don't say anything she won't suspect anything. But that would only make her think I'm ignoring her, but I would never ignore my angel! But if I tell her the truth now, she'll definitely hate me. What do I do? I can't deal with this at all!

"C'mon Chrona." My angel calls me again. She doesn't sound angry at me, or even disappointed. And when I look at her, she has that perfect angelic smile on her face, the kind only a gift from paradise can give. Maybe… Maybe she doesn't know… maybe she doesn't have to know. Maka did say everyone deserved to have one secret, as long as the secret didn't hurt anyone. But is keeping this secret going to hurt her? I don't want it to. Maybe I should tell her anyway.

"Chrona." She says my name again, and I obediently look to her serene face. "We can talk all about this once we have somewhere to stay. For now… just… know that you weren't the first to look at me like that." She winks at me, and I find myself gasping for breath.

She definitely knew.

I don't know how I can deal with this, so I won't deal with it now. I just take Maka's hand and follow her as she leads me from the train booth, down the aisle and out of the cabin. Holding the black coat of Maka over my head, I let her scent fill me, knowing that this item of hers, something that she wore all time, is covering me cloud my thoughts. IT keeps me from having to deal with where we are, with what we're doing, with that I now am.

My feet make a more audible stomping sound once we hit the concrete of the train station. I can't see much, but I can see some. But I can't see with my evil red eyes. I… I see with my ears. I don't know how, and I almost can't deal with now knowing how, but I let myself think of Maka, her hand, her jacket, her kindness, and I don't have to think too hard anymore.

We walked for sometime, and I don't know how far it was, or exactly how long. I know that I didn't feel too uncomfortable, or too exposed, not as long as Maka was with me, and she was guiding me with her hand. Even though the jacket still covered my eyes, hid my head, blocked the light, I could still see… or maybe feel the people around us. I… I know it's more than simple feeling, because I can see what they are doing… but I can't see them with my eyes, and I'm looking for their souls. I see… their bodies move, or I hear them move, smell them too. It's too weird, too confusing, too ill natural, too evil.

It's like… I'm watching them in a dream. I know what they are doing around me. I can describe it, recall it, remember it, but I don't see them doing it. I never saw them with my eyes, and that's the only way I've ever known how to see, aside from hunting souls, but this… this isn't the same. I'm not watching their souls…

I'm watching their… their… blood.

That precious sweet liquid that I see, smell, hear, feel, and desire. No amount of covering over my eyes or clothing over their bodies hides it from me. I see every sweet red cell pumping through their arteries, reinvigorating themselves through the veins, and always coming back one of the most lovely muscles in the entire body. The heart.

The conduit of the soul, the battery of the body, and the core of their being. It's something that I can more than deal with, it's something I desire. I see dozens of them all around me. Walking close to me, walking far from me, sitting down, standing up, shopping, selling, drinking, eating, talking, listening, everything. There are just so many and the only thing I can't deal with is not knowing where to start.

Should I start with the woman to my right? She's tall, but thin, making her an easy meal. Or maybe the boy just behind her. He's far younger than her, but he still has plenty of red marrow, lots of blood to drink up. But that's thinking in the wrong direction, it would make more sense to feast on the person with a strong soul. Stronger souls mean a sound connection between body and mind, between the life force that guides them. That would be a delicious treat. A rich soul with a blood filling. I almost can't deal with the idea of not having something like that soon. It just sounds so… appetizing, mouthwatering, incising, decadent, perfect!

It would be so easy to rip the fluid out of them. Dance in it, roll in it, play in it, swim in it, dine in it, do anything I want to in it. There's nothing to deal with, nothing to worry about. It would be an ecstatic feeling, something that I would love to do every day of my life! I don't know how I know, I just know! I love just knowing, I don't have to deal with questions, wondering, asking, pondering, depending. I can just… do it, and fear nothing because of it. Is this what it means to be… this? A vampire? Is this freedom what I have now? Why would I want to give this up? I don't have to deal with anything! Nothing! It's perfect! Wondrous! Magnificent!

Who is there to stop me?

"-work, right Chrona?"

Maka's voice draws me from my imaginings, and I shake my head lightly beneath her jacket. What was I thinking? Why would I think those thoughts? That is what I did to Maka, and now we are running from Death itself! I couldn't deal with doing something like that again, hurting anyone again, especially my angel. Why was I thinking like that? Am… am I trying to become evil? Am I already evil? No! Maka said I wasn't! She said she would protect me, keep me from doing those things, keep me safe. I'm no a monster, my angel said so. Maka said so.

"Ow!" My angel is hurt! Who hurt here? Is she okay? Will she live? What will I do if she dies? I can't deal with her dying! "Chrona, loosen your grip please, your pinching my skin." Oh… Oh, she's okay. That's good. I can deal with that. I'm not letting go, but I loosen my grip. I'm just scared. Scared of this town I haven't seen, of the reaper hunting me, of the punishment that awaits me, and even myself. My thoughts, my… daydreams were horrifying, but… but I only hated them when I heard Maka… If she wasn't… wasn't here… would I still do that?

I couldn't deal with doing that. Hurting them, hurting anyone, ever again. But… why was I thinking that way? Am I really evil? I don't want to be evil. Being evil is wrong, and being wrong makes Maka sad. I don't Maka sad, or hurt, or either, but… I might just by thinking those thoughts? Then… if I acted on them…

No! I won't! I promised I never would. Promised myself I wouldn't again, promised Maka I wouldn't hurt anyone again. I won't do that, I won't! Lord Death told me it was wrong, Dr. Stein told me how bad it was to eat, and Maka told how wrong it was to kill. I won't do anything to hurt anyone again! Ever! I won't!

I feel her hand rise as she begins to walk up some steps, and I follow her lead, blind to the objects around me, but seeing the bodies of others more clearly than I ever have, or hoped to, before. It only takes a moment, but I recognize when we are inside. There's only one person inside, besides me and Maka, or at least that's all I feel. He's tall and well built, and maybe a little bit bored. I don't know why I can tell, but… but I know he is tired at least. His blood is… pumping slowly through him… Why do I think that makes him tired? Why am I still thinking about it! I promised I wouldn't do that anymore, just minutes ago. I… I… I don't know how to deal with this…

"Excuse me," Maka speaks to him, never letting go of my hand. "Do you have a room for two we can rent?" I hear, feel, and maybe smell a bit, of the man straighten himself when my angel speaks to him. He's looking at her, then at me. He stops to stare at me for a while. Does he think something is wrong? Will he not let us stay? It would be hard for Maka if we kept looking for somewhere to stay. I don't it to be hard on her, so here can work, I know it can.

"Wha's wrong with ya' friend." He's voice is so… slurry. He must really be tired. Something is in his hand, a glass maybe, from the way his hand is cupped. Water would keep him awake. It is water… why don't I like the idea of water?

"He has a very rare form of disease called Xeroderma." The man's head tilts to one side, the blood pooling as he does it. His entire body wobbles when he does it, too… "It's an allergy to light, it literally burns him." Is that real? Is that what I have? No… No, I'm a monster, so the sun burns me. I'm evil, so the light blinds me… That's the truth…

"Tha' sucks righ' thar." He says with a point. I don't know what it means to have something… suck… but, it is bad… "Well, ya' there's a room ya' can use. Cost, les' say, twentay a nigh'?" Is that a lot? I haven't spent a lot of money to now, but it sounds like just a little for one night… How long are we going to be here for?

"That would be great!" Maka cheers, so I know it's a good deal now. That means we can stay here for more than one night, maybe… Hopefully… Not…

"Kay, jus' sign here," He says as he puts his hand on a large object. I think it's a book, I hope it's a book, because books are easy to deal with. But… I don't know where he means to sign on something like that. Does Maka know? Hopefully she does, she knows so much. My angel must know.

"We go' some food here fer' lunch, case ya' ge' hungry." His waves behind him, to what I have no idea. "Jus' let us know and we can ge' jus' bout anything made fer' ya two. Lovers should 'ave a good vacation, am I righ'?" What? What?

"L-Lovers?" I speak it hardly a whisper, but it still sounds so… wrong to say. Me and Maka, my perfect angel, look like… lovers?

"W-What?" By the pitch of my angel's voice, she didn't believe it either.

"There ain't nothin' ta be shamed about. Holdin' hands like tha' carin' for him more than a mother's touch, ya got somethin' special between tha two of ya'." He gives a raspy laugh, that turns into a fit of coughs, but I don't care. All I can care about is one thing. One thought that is now swirling in my mind more than the ideas of blood and gore before it. A question that I asked myself before, and thought I had answered, but after tonight… yesterday… I don't think I can say again.

Do… Do I l-l-l… love Maka?

"What! What? Why would you ask a couple of kids if there are lovers? It's the middle of the freaking day and you think we came here to do what exactly? Fuck?" If I could, I know I would faint from Maka using that word. "What kind of disgusting drunk inn manager are you to see a couple of kids on a trip and think that they are intimate like that! If you so much as think that way again about us, I'll tear the beams out of every wall in this decrepit, god-forsaken, piece of-"

"Alrigh', alrigh', nah reason ta' get hostile on me for tha'. Just sign and we are done." He pushed the book towards Maka, and I saw his hand with the cup of water go to his lips. I don't think its water anymore…

I feel Maka's hand clench against my own. Her other rights down something on the book, fast and hard. She did know where to right, that's good. She fishes through a pocket on her shirt for a second, then pulls out what I can guess is the money the man wants. That's good. I don't want to deal with him anymore… I wouldn't know how without Maka.

"Room 120. Enjoy yer stay." The words roll off in a heavy slur, but Maka is already pulling me away. She must really want to leave him. I do too. I don't know how to deal with someone like him.

Maka's marching down the hall, holding my hand as she does so. But at the speed she's moving, I nearly trip a couple of times. But I won't complain. I prefer this to her letting go of me. I can deal with anything she does as long as she guides me through it. This is no different.

"Can you believe that guy?" She asked me. Rage was clear in her voice. I hope she doesn't become mad at me. I wouldn't know how to respond if she was mad at me. I couldn't deal with it. "I mean, honestly, what kind of pervert is he to think of… that when sees kids? That must have been some kind of alcohol he was drinking…"

"He… He was drunk? B-But I thought y-you were only s-supposed to do that at n-night." That's what I was told at least. At parties, by Dr. Stein, Maka, and even… my mother once… If everything she said was a lie though, then that was too. Does that mean Maka and Dr. Stein also lied to me? No, they promised they never would, they both protect me, like Maka is now… but then that would mean my mother told the truth. If she told the truth then… then what else was the truth in what she said?

"You ARE Chrona." I flinched. She sounded mad, at me… "Sorry, sorry…" She quickly apologized though, and I felt her pace slow. She didn't mean it. I hope she didn't mean it.

"You aren't supposed to drink that… stuff during the day, but some people are just idiots like that, so they waster their day with it. Did you know it's actually illegal to do that?"

"I-It is?" I honestly didn't know that. But… but if it was illegal, then that would make him a bad person. And bad people deserved to be punished for doing bad things… so…

"Should we be doing something about it?" I saw Maka turn then… felt her turn more like it… but she was looking at me, that much I could tell. But I couldn't tell what she was trying to show me. Happy? Sad? Dissapointed? Mad? Those are all bad, almost all of them. I hope she's happy for me that would mean I did something right for her. And making her happy is all that matters to me, always.

"No… No… Unfortunately not. Usually it would be the best thing to do, but if we start getting more people involved in this, like policemen or guards, then we'll have to answer questions ourselves. Like, why are we here, or where are our parents?" I felt her voice, heard her voice, hike as she said that word. Did she miss her father? I wouldn't understand, I've never known mine. Then maybe it is her mother. I still wouldn't understand, I hated mine.

"B-But he's… he's doing something bad, so he should stop, or… or someone should s-stop him." I grip the jacket over my head harder. I'm not used to correcting Maka like this. I can hardly deal with it. It's only because she's holding my hand that I can. That… that is the only reason why I can… Is it enough? Will it always be enough?

"Normally, Chrona, yes we would. But this is one of those times that Dr. Stein told us about in class." He did? He talked about a situation like this? I don't remember him ever talking about vampires, monsters, running away, or even drunks before… "There are times when we will have to make decisions that will conflict with our morals, for the betterment of our duties. There are times when we have to choose, help a hurt or let a kishin escape? Defend your family or defend your leader? They're questions that he wouldn't give us an answer for, but just reminded us that those situations come up, and I know this is one of them." That's my angel. That's Maka.

"H-How do you know?" Even though we're still talking, I can tell that she's calmed down. I don't know how she calmed down so fast, but I'm glad she did. I don't know how to deal with Maka when she's angry, or sad, or disappointed, or hurt. I don't want her to be any of those things. I can't deal with them.

"Well, if we tried to find someone that would be responsible for taking care of him, that would risk exposing ourselves. The trade off to putting a drunk away for a fine is revealing ourselves, and exposing…" she trailed off, but I know what she was going to say. It's hard not to, even though I don't want to. But it's what it is, and I know it. But if she won't say… maybe I should… I am the reason after all.

"W-Without exposing that I'm a demon…" I felt her hand grip before she whirled to me.

"No!" She spoke harshly, and I cringed within the cover of her jacket. "You are NOT a monster, demon, evil, or anything in between. You are still Chrona, you are still my friend, and no matter how many times people call you anything else, remember that. You are a friend, a fighter, and a good soul before anything else."

"B-But I don't have a soul…" I know I don't. You told me I didn't. My… Dr. Stein said I didn't. Lord Death said I didn't. So how can I be a good soul without a soul at all? That didn't make any sense, and I don't know how to deal with things that don't make sense.

"You had a good soul then, but it is still out there, and it's just as lost and scared as you are now." It is? How did she know that? Was it possible for a soul to exist like that? I never heard of that… I was never told that… But… But if anyone knew, it would be my angel. Maka would know, since she always knows.

"Now… let's see about that room." I hear the key jingle in her hand as she positions it. It must be difficult with only one hand. Would it be easier if she let go of me? Yes, it would, but I still don't want her too. I wouldn't know how to deal with this if I didn't know where she was. As long as I'm holding her hand, I know where she is, and that lets me deal with this.

"Oh, we don't need that anymore Chrona." What was she talking about? The room? But we just got the room? I don't understand why we don't need something we just got? Was it because of that man? Was it her way of being fair, but then I really don't understand. Maybe if I ask why, then she'll-

"And off we go." I watch more than feel the dark fabric slid off my head, revealing the hotel to my eyes for the first time. It's made out of wood, not a single stone in sight, and the only metal being the hinges and handles on the doors. The lights above us are dim, but the windows are all draped shut, as if the hallway is supposed to stay dark. I'm glad for that, but I don't understand why. There are a few pictures hanging between the windows though, small paintings and pictures of flowers, sheep, and what I remember being called "Lumbermen". I want ask where we are, where we really are, but I can't. All I can do is stare at Maka in front of me.

She's still giving me that angelic smile that I love to see. The kind of smile that I see so often, but had hardly seen all my life. I love that smile, I love everything about it. It brought me hope, saved my life, rescued me, and kept me safe. There's no reason for anything else to matter as long as I can see that smile. And since she's giving it to me, there really is nothing I have to deal with.

"That's better, isn't it? Sorry again that we had to do that." Her smile falls when she apologizes like that. I can't let that happen! That would mean she feels bad because of me!

"I-It's okay! I… I didn't mind…" My head falls, ashamed by the way I raised my voice like that. The monstrous red eyes of mine looking down at the ground. But… but something's wrong… I can see my hands, both of my hands… and neither one of them is holding Maka's… Then why do I still feel like… like I can deal with things? I don't know how to deal with that… Is that even possible?

"Chrona." Her hand is on my shoulder, and then all I can care about is what she is saying to me. "Why don't we go inside? We have the room for the night." She's right. That's all that matters right now. Once we get inside, we can talk, wait, discuss, manage, figure everything out. That's what matters to her, so that's what we'll do. I don't care what we do, or where we go. As long as she keeps me with her, I don't care in anyway. I can deal with any of it.

"Alright, how do you like it here? It will only be for a short while, until we can decide what to do next at least." It was a normal room, plain, simple, easy to deal with. It had a window, a desk, a chair to go with it, four walls, a ceiling, a floor, and two beds. There were no pictures on the wall I couldn't understand, or odd forms of architecture that I wouldn't be able to deal with. It was very plain, very simple, and perfectly simple. Perfect.

"I-I don't mind staying here Maka." I would probably tell her it was okay anyway. She's done so much for me, someone who isn't worth much, that I shouldn't complain that she's not doing enough. But I don't want to go somewhere else now. This room is perfect. It has Mr. Pillow on my bed, and Mr. Corner just behind the door. And Maka is here, and as long as Maka is here, anywhere is okay.

"Excellent." She congratulated herself with a bright smile, and I'm glad I said what I did. Saying anything is worth it to see that smile. "Well, I'll be right back then." What?

"What?" I speak my thought in my confusion. I don't think I heard her correctly, or I hope I didn't hear her correctly.

"I'm just going downstairs to see what they have to eat. It's been awhile, and I'm feeling a bit hungry. I'll be right back, and then we can talk. Is that okay?" No! No it's not okay. It's not okay if you leave me alone here. I don't care how simple this room is, how easy it is to deal with. If Maka leaves, I won't be able to deal with it, with anything at all. The walls would cave in on me, the ceiling collapse on me, the floor cave in beneath me! All of that would happen if Maka left me.

"Don't." I whisper the word so quiet I didn't know if I had even said it. But it was enough for Maka to bend her head, look at me with an expression that wasn't harsh or cruel, just curious.

"Don't… go?" She ventured. I not my head madly. Yes, don't go. Don't leave me. Please, not here, not now.

"It's not going to be for long Chrona." That's not what I want to hear. "It'll be safer if you stay here. That innkeeper was a bit of a mess, but you know I can handle myself. Besides, we were lucky he was took drunk to even notice that there wasn't any sunlight in the building. What if someone else asks you to reveal yourself? I'm sorry, but I promise I'll be fast." She turns and puts her hand on the door. She is going to leave. She's going to leave me here alone. I can't have that happen. No. No! Not yet! Not here!

"P-Please don't go!" I didn't mean to shout, I really didn't, but I had to. She turns in quick shock, but she doesn't speak. I still stand before her though, ready to scream it again if I have to. She would leave me if I didn't, and I can't have here leave me here. I don't know this room, I don't know this town, I don't know this corner, or this pillow, or any of it. I can't deal with things I don't know, but I know I can't deal with it! I can't deal with things I don't know, not at all! Not even a little! I push my head further into her chest, holding her as close as I can. I can't afford to let her go, can't let her leave me alone. I can't deal with it.

"I-I'm just… just going to get something to eat Chrona. I promise I won't be gone long, and I will come back." She tries to soothe me, hand on the back of my head. "We… I haven't eaten at all today, so I'm just going to get a small bite downstairs. I can even bring it back up here when it's done. Chrona, I promise I am not going to leave you." But you are, you are! Even if it's just for a small time, your going to leave me alone here, and I can't deal with that, not now! Not now! I force myself to raise my head from her chest, looking at her peaceful green eyes. I know mine are hideous, I know I'm a monster, but I can't let her go, I just can't!

"Please Maka… d-d-don't leave me." I don't what I said, or what it was that I said, but I know what I saw. I just can't deal with it. Maka's eyes… for the slightest second, for the smallest amount of time that I can deal with, changed. They didn't… slit like my mother's, or grey like she was dying, but what they did was no less terrifying.

They turned red.

"I promise I will not leave, my master."

What? What! No! No!

"**No**!" I scream with the word then scream as I fall backwards. On the floor, I still watch terrified at my angel, my guardian angel. Her eyes are still that hideous red, the red of my own eyes, of… his eyes. Red as blood, red as evil, reddish red with a red hew! Why are they red? Why are my angel's eyes red! Was it me? Did I do it? Did I hurt my angel? Did I corrupt Maka? No! No! I can't deal with this! I can't deal with this at all!

"I can't deal with this! I can't deal with this! I can't deal with this! **I can't deal with this**! **I can't deal with this!**" I'm shouting louder and louder, letting my voice fill the room. I don't want to see my angel like that, I can't deal with seeing my angel like that. I am a monster. I am a demon. I am evil. I am cursed. Kill me! Kill me! Please, Lord Death kill me! Mother kill me now! Please!

"Ch-Chrona? Chrona" My angel screams for me, but I can't look at her, I can't be near her. I'm a monster, a horrible evil monster that corrupted an angel because I'm too weak, too pathetic, too useless. And I hurt her again, I hurt my angel after I promised I never would again. But I did! I hurt her! I hurt her so bad!

"Chrona! Look at me. Look at me now!" She's shouting at me, shaking me as hard as she can. But I won't I can't. I'll only hurt her again. I can't hurt her. I won't hurt her. Please don't make me hurt her. Kill me now. I don't want to hurt her, so kill me so I can't. If I'm dead, I won't hurt her. If I'm alive, if I look at her, think of her, breath near her, she will get hurt. I can't allow that, I can't!

"Chrona! Please!" Then I feel it. Her entire body wraps around me. On her knees, pushing on my fallen curled form, she wraps her arms around me a buries her head into the pink hair on the back of my head. She flexes her arms as tight as she can, holding me as close to her as possible. Why is she doing this! I move to push, place my hands on her shoulders and wrench her off of me. Can't she see? I'm corrupting her, poisoning her! The closer she gets to me, the more she is tainted! I'm a monster, a… a demon, but she is an angel! She shouldn't soil herself with me. But… But…

I can't.

I don't push her, I hold her. I don't fight her, I embrace her. I don't want to hurt her, I want to protect her. I don't want to leave her, I want to stay with her, like this, together, as long as we can.

Something wet begins to seep down my neck, and I know Maka is crying. I made Maka cry. I hurt her. Now I'm crying. The warm evil sickly red tears fall from my eyes hiding themselves as they stain my black dress. I don't care. I can't care right now. All I can think about is Maka. How I hurt Maka, damaged Maka, tainted Maka, poisoned Maka, my angel.

"I… I know what might help." I don't understand what she means, but I feel her head rise off my own, and I feel a single arm loosen it's embrace. I'm terrified for a moment, scared that she will leave, but her other arm still holds me, and I hold it with as much power as I can without hurting her. I will never hurt her. I hear clothes crease above my head, and then I know what she's doing.

Exposing herself, her neck, her blood, to me.

"You… You haven't in a while and… neither have I. So… maybe if you eat, you'll feel… better." A hot shade of flows across her cheeks, but I don't need my eyes to see it. I sense it, hear it, smell it, feel it, feel the blood course through her head as the thought enters her mind, and I know that if I had the ability, I would be doing the same.

But… but is this okay? Is this alright? This is what we were running from. This is what made us run, made me run. I hurt Maka with this, or so her father said, and Lord Death said, and… and Dr. Stein agreed with. This would hurt her, damage her. If my touch taints her, then my blood would defile her. But… but she wants me too and… and so do I…

Just… Just a taste… Would that be okay? Maybe… Maybe I can deal with it.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

The fledgling cursed swordsman and courageous young meister shared a moment then not unlike the one they had before. Under no eyes they gave permission and in a place both hardly recognized. But the price of traveling within the unknown was never being sure who was around to watch you.

{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}{\*/}

Another moan echoes down the hall, loud enough and pitched enough for even my damn drunk state to know it was that gal from before. Getting' off this damn early in the day. Barely a fuckin' minute past two and theire goin' at it like monkeys in the trees. The scotch just spins in my hands as I bring the bottle up for another swig. It tilted higher and higher till the bottle was verticle in the air. Not a drop left in it, and from the sounds comin from the room still, followed by a squeal of ecstasy that I've heard too many times from women that aren't mine, I'd say that I'm gonna need a whole lot more than just one new bottle. Still I was righ' bout them.

"I kne they were fuckin' lovers. Now their fuckin' AND liars." If they're gonna be doing this in the middle of the day, I'm gonna have to have aid to pass out tonight. Specifically, the kind that goes down hard and brings me down harder. Scotch ain't gonna do it. I'm gonna need some vodka to knock this sad puppy of a memory out of my head.

I brace myself against the wall behind makin' damn well sure that no one from the streets is gonna accuse me of bein drunk on duty. Bout the only good thing for workin' in a crap motel like this, no one who comes in bothers to tell what they saw here, not without spiling all the pretty beans about what they did.

A hand of mine guides me along the wall, lettin' me know just how far away I am from the heaven that exists between me and another cold bottle of alcohol. Specifically, two doors made out of wood and another out of hard plastic. Not to hard to get through. I step through the first door, makin' sure it swings all quiet like as not to let any other know that I'm back here yet, but when I turn to go through the second door, I trip, and fall. Then I fall… fall into… shadows? I must be drunker than I thought.

"**No, not inebriated,**" A dark voice speaks to me, but I can't see a damn head to go with it. "**Simply more unfortunate that most**."

I don't know why… but that's all I remember…


End file.
